a 


THE  PARABLES. 


THE 


PARABLES,/ 

c__ — 


fjekd  in  %  I^t  of 


THOMAS   GUTHTUE,  D.  D  , 

»UTHOR  or  "THE  GOSPEL  IN  SZEKIEL,"  "THE  SAINT'S  isi  t  KITAMCB,  * 

"WAT  TO  LITE,"    "  SPEAKING  TO  THE  HEART,"  KTC. 


WITH  A  BRIE* 

MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GUTHRIE. 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BKOTHERS, 

No.    530    BROADWAY. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY ..,...,       7 

I.  THE  PAKABLK  OF  THE  LEAVEN 15 

II.  "          "        «      "    TEN  VIRGINS 30 

III.  "         «        «'      "    PRODIGAL  SON 47 

IV.  "          «.-*_'«    GOOD  SAMARITAN 73 

V.  "         "        "      "    UNJUST  JUDGE. 97 

VI.  "          "        «      "    PHARISEE  AND  PUBLICAM 123 

VII.  «'          "         "      "    HID  TREASURE 149 

VIII."          "        M      "    PEARL  OP  THE  GREAT  Psicfi 171 

IX.  "          u        "      "    LOST  PIECE  OP  MONEY 191 

X.  "         «        "      "    SOWEE 209 

XI.  "          "        "      "    UNMERCIFUL  SEBVAMT.. 235 

XII."  *        *     "    LABOREBS  IN  THE  VIMUYABD.,  ......261 


MEMOIR, 


DR.  GUTHRIE  was  born  at  Brechin,  in  Forfarshire,  July 
12,  1803,  and  was  a  younger  son  of  the  late  Mr.  David 
Guthrie,  merchant  and  banker  in  that  ancient  city.  The 
family  was  one  of  great  respectability  and  considerable 
antiquity,  having  been  connected  with  Brechin  for  more 
than  two  hundred  years.  With  one  or  two  short  intervals 
the  office  of  Provost  has  been  held  in  succession  by  five 
members  of  the  family,  the  present  occupant  being  John 
Guthrie,  M.D.,  Dr.  Guthrie's  nephew.  It  is  probable,  but 
not  certain,  that  Dr.  Guthrie  was  a  lineal  descendant  of 
the  well-known  Rev.  William  Guthrie,  author  of  the  "Trial 
of  a  Saving  Interest  in  Christ,"  who  was  cousin  of  James 
Guthrie,  the  martyr.  At  the  very  least  he  was  a  kinsman 
of  both,  and  Dr.  Guthrie  used  to  refer  with  pride  to  his 
connection  with  the  martyr,  who  was  not  only,  like  him- 
self, a  Forfarshire  man,  but  connected  with  the  town  of 
Brechin,  having  been  owner  of  a  small  estate  in  its  imme- 
diate neighbourhood.  Alexander,  one  of  Dr.  Guthrie's 
elder  brothers,  was  a  medical  man,  who  enjoyed  a  large 
practice  and  no  small  local  reputation.  Another  brother, 
Charles,  nearest  to  himself  in  age,  and  his  favourite  in  the 
family  joined  the  Indian  army,  in  which  he  held  the  rank 

(i) 


U  MEMOIR. 

of  captain,  and  fell  in  the  first  Burmese  War,  to  the  great 
sorrow  of  his  brother  and  all  his  family. 

Dr.  Outline's  education  was  carried  on  in  his  native  town 
till  he  arrived  at  the  age  of  eleven,  at  which  period,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  practice  of  the  time,  but  very  foolishly, 
as  he  always  thought  and  said,  he  was  sent  to  study  at  the 
University  of  Edinburgh.  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected 
that  at  such  an  age  he  would  make  any  great  figure  in  the 
University  classes.  Having  resolved  to  devote  himself  to 
the  ministry,  he  passed  through  the  Divinity  Hall,  which 
at  that  time  was  in  a  singularly  inefficient  state.  We  have 
not  heard  through  what  influence  he  was  led  to  make  the 
ministry  his  profession,  but  it  is  likely  that  the  influence 
of  his  mother,  who  was  both  a  godly  and  a  clever  woman, 
may  have  disposed  him  towards  it.  This  excellent  lady 
had  been  brought  up  a  Seceder,  but  the  Guthrie  family 
were  of  the  Established  Church.  Through  his  mother, 
Dr.  Guthrie  may  be  said  to  have  inherited  a  respect  for 
the  Seceders ;  he  was  in  the  habit  of  occasionally  attend- 
ing their  chapel  in  Brechin ;  and,  perhaps  through  the 
force  of  these  early  associations,  was  strongly  disposed  for 
union  between  them  and  the  Free  Church,  even  before 
the  union  movement  became  popular  among  his  brethren. 
The  parish  minister  of  Brechin,  or  rather  one  of  them  (for 
it  was  a  collegiate  charge),  whose  daughter  Dr.  Guthrie 
subsequently  married,  was  an  earnest  preacher,  and  of  an 
excellent  and  very  evangelical  family — the  late  Rev.  James 
Burns,  father  of  the  Rev.  J.  C.  Burns,  of  Kirkliston,  aid 
uncle  of  the  late  William  C.  Burns,  the  Missionary  to 
China,  and  of  the  late  Professor  Islay  Burns.  From  a 
very  early  period  evangelical  doctrine  took  a  firm  hold  of 
Dr.  Guthrie's  heart,  and  all  through  his  life  it  was  at  the 
foundation  of  his  ministry. 


MEMOIR.  iii 

At  a  very  early  age  he  was  licensed  as  a  preacher  by 
the  Presbytery  of  Brechin,  but  for  a  number  of  years  no 
opening  occurred  for  his  entering  on  the  ministry.  He 
was  content  to  wait,  however ;  the  more  especially  that, 
through  the  influence  of  the  late  Hon.  William  Maule,  of 
Panmure  (afterwards  Lord  Panmure),  the  father  of  the 
present  Earl  of  Dalhousie,  he  had  the  prospect  of  being 
presented  to  a  parish,  the  incumbent  of  which  was  far  ad- 
vanced in  years.  One  benefit  that  came  to  him  in  this 
delay  was  that,  dipping  into  more  than  one  secular  pur- 
suit, he  came  to  know  much  more  of  human  nature  and 
of  the  ordinary  ways  and  feelings  of  the  world  than  the 
somewhat  monastic  training  of  many  a  clergyman  enables 
him  to  obtain.  While  exercising  his  gifts  occasionally  as 
a  probationer,  he  assisted  his  father  in  his  banking  office 
on  week-days.  The  knowledge  of  mankind  in  their  money 
relations  which  he  there  obtained  was  no  common  advan- 
tage, and  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  that  sagacity 
which  characterized  him  afterwards  in  the  more  ordinary 
matters  of  life.  Dr.  Guthrie  was  also  very  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  study  of  medicine.  So  eager  was  he  in  the 
pursuit  that  he  spent  the  winter  of  1826-27  in  Paris,  at- 
tending medical  classes,  and  getting  whatever  insight  into 
medical  matters  the  hospitals  of  that  capital  could  enable 
him  to  acquire. 

At  last,  in  the  year  1830,  the  parish  of  Arbirlot,  in  the  Pres- 
bytery of  Arbroath,  became  vacant,  and,  at  the  instance  of 
Mr.  Maule,  the  Crown  issued  a  presentation  in  favour  of  Mr. 
Guthrie.  In  consequence  of  the  death  of  George  IV.  and 
the  accession  of  William,  there  was  considerable  delay  in 
issuing  the  presentation  ;  and  in  the  Gazette  an  odd  trans- 
position of  names  occurred,  and  it  was  announced  that 
the  King  had  presented  Rev.  So-and-so  (naming  the  late 


IV  MEMOIK. 

minister)  to  the  church  and  parish  of  Arbirlot,  in  room 
of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Guthrie,  deceased.  This  act  of  official 
murder  having  been  somehow  got  the  better  of,  Mr.  Guth- 
rie was  settled  as  minister  of  the  parish  of  Arbirlot.  Il  • 
was  a  purely  rural  parish,  and  it  had  this  remarkable  pe- 
culiarity, that  during  his  ministry  there  was  but  one  single 
individual  in  it,  a  kind  of  free-thinker,  who  did  not  attend 
the  parish  church.  Mr.  Guthrie's  talent  as  a  preacher 
soon  began  to  appear.  He  set  out  with  a  fixed  determin- 
ation to  make  himself  understood,  and  to  try  to  gain  the 
attention  of  the  people.  Watching  what  parts  or  passages 
of  his  sermons  seemed  to  impress  them  most,  he  saw 
that  it  was  his  illustrations,  and  he  resolved  to  give  special 
attention  to  illustration  in  every  sermon.  He  had  another 
way  of  finding  out  what  was  most  adapted  to  his  audience. 
It  was  his  habit  to  go  over  his  sermons  with  a  class  of 
young  people,  and  from  their  answers  he  easily  gathered 
what  parts  of  his  sermons  they  understood  and  felt,  and 
what  parts,  on  the  other  hand,  they  had  little  interest  in. 
By  all  these  lessons  he  sagaciously  profited  in  his  after 
preparations. 

His  ministry  roused  the  people  of  Arbirlot  out  of  the 
profound  sleep  in  which  they  had  been  permitted  to  in- 
dulge, and  was  accompanied  by  a  measure  of  spiritual 
blessing.  His  fame,  began  to  spread,  and  was  consider- 
ably increased  by  a  public  lecture  which  he  delivered  at 
Arbroath,  in  opposition  to  the  extreme  Voluntaryism  of 
Dr.  Ritchie,  of  Potterrow,  Edinburgh,  with  which  he  never 
sympathized.  The  attention  of  the  late  Mr.  Alexander 
Dunlop,  afterwards  Mr.  Murray  Dunlop,  M.P.,  was  drawn 
to  him,  and  we  believe  that  Mr.  Dunlop  went  to  Arbirlot 
to  hear  him  preach,  and  carried  back  to  Edinburgh  the 
report  of  his  great  powers  in  the  pulpit.  It  is  worthy  of 


MEMOIR.  V 

mention  that,  during  his  ministry  at  Arbirlot,  Dr.  Guthrie 
was  prostrated  by  a  very  serious  attack  of  fever.  For 
many  days  his  life  hung  in  the  balance,  and  night  after 
night  his  friends  watched  him  with  hardly  a  shadow  of 
hope  that  he  would  see  the  morning.  Had  he  not  had  a 
frame  of  great  vigour  he  could  not  have  survived  the  at- 
tack ;  but  through  God's  mercy  his  life  was  preserved  for 
the  valuable  and  important  services  which  he  had  been 
pre-ordained  to  render. 

In  the  year  1837,  the  death  of  Dr.  Anderson  having  caused 
a  vacancy  in  the  then  collegiate  Church  of  Old  Greyfriars, 
Edinburgh,  the  Town  Council  conferred  on  the  minister 
of  Arbirlot  the  greatest  compliment,  as  it  was  then  con- 
sidered, to  a  country  minister,  by  electing  him  to  the  va- 
cant Edinburgh  charge.  Arbirlot  and  its  people  had  taken 
a  great  hold  on  his  heart,  and  to  leave  its  fresh  rural  fields 
to  work  in  the  dingy  closes  and  "  lands  "  of  the  Cowgate 
of  Edinburgh,  which  was  embraced  in  his  parish,  was  no 
ordinary  trial.  Impelled,  however,  by  that  providential 
force,  which  so  often  urges  men  of  power  to  abandon  an 
easy  for  a  more  difficult  post,  Mr.  Guthrie  accepted  the 
call  to  Greyfriars. 

From  the  first  he  took  rank  as  a  preacher  of  singular 
vigour  and  vivacity.  In  Edinburgh,  no  less  than  in  Arbir- 
lot, he  was  resolved  not  to  let  his  people  sleep.  If  at  first 
his  manner  and  illustrations  had  a  certain  homespun  char- 
acter, he  came  by  and  by  to  see  the  advantages  of  adapt- 
ing himself  even  to  the  most  cultivated  taste,  and  took 
much  more  pains  with  his  style.  His  labours  in  the  Grey- 
friars'  were  divided  between  preaching  on  Sundays  in  the 
parish  church  and  "  excavating  "  on  week-days  in  the  par- 
ish purlieus.  It  was  not  long  before  the  parish  church 
became  crowded  with  hearers,  many  of  them  persons  of 


VI  MEMOIB. 

the  fiist  position  and  influence  in  Edinburgh.  Among  his 
regular  hearers  were  Lords  Jeffrey  and  Cockburn.  The 
story  is  told  of  Cockburn  that,  being  asked  by  a  friend 
who  met  him  one  Sunday  where  he  was  going  to  church, 
he  answered,  "  Going  to  have  a  greet  wi"  Guthrie."  Lord 
Rutherfurd  was  also  among  his  regular  hearers,  and  so  was 
Lord  Cunningham,  whose  views  on  church  controversies 
were  diametrically  opposite.  Hugh  Miller  joined  his  con- 
gregation when  he  came  to  Edinburgh,  and  continued 
through  life  his  warm  and  admiring  friend.  Many  other 
citizens  of  influence  attended,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  his 
ministry,  after  he  left  the  Establishment,  his  church  was 
the  resort  of  innumerable  strangers.  At  first,  however, 
the  influx  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  the  New  Town 
was  rather  embarrassing.  When  he  came  to  Edinburgh 
the  Voluntary  controversy  was  raging,  and  the  reproach 
was  flung  out  on  the  one  side,  and  repudiated  on  the 
other,  that  the  Established  Church  was  the  church  only  of 
the  gentry,  and  that  the  odious  Annuity-tax  was  levied  on 
the  poor  to  support  the  ministers  of  the  rich.  Mr.  Guth- 
rie at  that  time  believed  in  the  Established  Church  as  the 
church  of  all  classes,  and  besides  he  was  diligently  work- 
ing in  his  parish,  and  was  annoyed  at  the  Town  Council 
laying  on  seat  rents,  which  really  went  to  exclude  the 
poor,  and  furnished  some  reason  for  the  reproach  of  the 
Dissenters.  Under  the  influence  of  these  views  he  pro- 
moted the  uncollegiating  of  Old  Greyfriars'  Church,  and 
got  a  new  church  and  parish  erected  in  1840,  close  to  the 
Cowgate,  called  St.  John's,  in  which  it  was  intended  to  try 
the  experiment  of  allocating  one  portion  of  the  sittings  to 
the  people  of  the  parish,  and  allowing  the  rest  to  be  let  to 
the  public  at  comparatively  high  rates.  The  experiment 
proved  highly  successful,  but  Mr.  Guthrie  had  not  occu- 


MEMOIB.  Vll 

pied  his  church  long  before  events  occurred  that  led  to  a 
revolution  in  the  ecclesiastical  arrangements  of  St.  John's 
and  of  the  whole  of  Scotland. 

We  have  seen  that  Mr.  Guthrie  was  an  enemy  of  ex- 
treme Voluntaryism,  and  a  conscientious  upholder  of  the 
Established  Church.  He  had  accepted  more  than  one 
presentation  from  lay  patrons,  but  the  veto  law  was  then 
in  operation,  and  patronage  was  checked  by  the  efficient 
control  which  that  law  had  given  to  the  people  against  un- 
suitable appointments.  But  a  high-handed  patronage  he 
never  would  have  brooked.  Neither  could  he  have  borne 
the  interference  of  the  State  in  the  spiritual  functions  and 
prerogatives  of  the  Church.  His  theory  of  the  connection 
of  Church  and  State  was  that,  as  co-ordinate  powers,  they 
were  in  friendly  alliance,  and  that  neither  of  them  had  any 
right,  either  inherently  or  by  statute,  to  override  the  other 
in  its  proper  domain.  The  decisions  and  actings  of  the 
civil  courts  in  the  Auchterarder  and  other  cases  were,  in 
his  view,  entirely  unconstitutional.  A  great  stand  must 
be  made  against  them.  For,  whatever  advantages  the  State 
might  confer  on  the  Church,  if  these  advantages  interfered 
with  its  freedom  or  impaired  its  spirituality — if  they  inter- 
fered with  its  right  and  obligation  to  regard  the  mind  of 
Christ,  as  expressed  in  His  Word,  as  the  supreme  rule  by 
which  it  was  to  regulate  its  procedure,  he  would  not  scru- 
ple to  renounce  all  these  advantages  in  order  to  retain  the 
Church's  freedom.  Dr.  Guthrie,  moreover,  had  a  great  re- 
gard for  the  rights  of  the  people.  He  had  confidence  in  the 
popular  appreciation  of  the  chief  qualities  to  be  sought  in  a 
preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  stood  bravely  by  popular  rights. 
The  outrageous  disregard  of  these  rights  in  the  settlements 
of  Auchterarder  and  Marnoch  roused  his  indignation.  With 
great  decision  and  great  energy  he  threw  in  his  lot  with 


Vlll  MEMOIR. 

what  was  called  the  non-intrusion  party.  When  the  Strath- 
bogie  ministers  were  suspended,  and  when,  in  their  great 
folly,  they  applied  for  and  obtained  interdicts  from  the 
Court  of  Session  prohibiting  the  ministers  appointed  by 
the  General  Assembly  from  preaching  in  their  parishes, 
Mr.  Guthrie  was  one  of  those  who  set  the  interdict  at  de- 
fiance, and  proclaimed  himself  prepared  to  go  to  prison — 
which  was  the  threatened  penalty — rather  than  be  guilty 
of  rendering  to  Caesar  in  this  matter  the  things  that  were 
God's.  In  the  great  public  meetings  in  Edinburgh  and 
elesewhere,  held  to  promote  the  cause  of  those  who  were 
struggling  against  the  oppression  of  the  civil  courts,  Mr. 
Guthrie's  eloquence  w,as  always  one  of  the  most  efficient 
popular  forces.  Cunningham  was  more  learned,  and  Cand- 
lish  more  subtle  and  more  skilled  in  giving  expression  and 
form  to  the  thoughts  and  aspirations  of  his  party  ;  but  in 
humour,  in  illustration,  in  appeals  to  the  broad  feelings 
and  convictions  of  the  people,  Guthrie  excelled  them  both. 
The  remarkable  combination  of  humour  and  pathos  by 
which  he  was  characterized  had  more  scope  on  the  plat- 
form than  in  the  pulpit.  Occasionally  he  would  rise  to 
the  sublime,  but  the  fertility  of  his  fancy  in  the  realm  of 
humour  supplied  a  constant  and  almost  irrepressible  means 
of  enlivening  and  refreshing  his  audience.  Side  by  side 
with  the  illustrious  men  by  whom,  in  some  high  qualities, 
he  knew  that  he  was  eclipsed,  it  cannot  be  said  that  Dr. 
Guthrie  showed  any  of  the  weakness  of  jealousy.  Never 
did  he  utter  a  finer  sentiment  than  on  one  occasion  before 
the  Disruption,  when,  in  reference  to  the  tremendous  con- 
flict of  the  day,  he  adverted  to  the  invaluable  help  which 
would  have  been  rendered  by  the  late  Dr.  Andrew  Thom- 
son, had  he  been  alive,  and  said  that  he  did  not  know 
what  inscription  had  been  placed  over  his  ashes,  but,  if  it 


MEMOIR.  IX 

were  yet  to  choose,  he  would  suggest  that  which  the  Cartha- 
ginians placed  on  the  tomb  of  Hannibal — "  We  greatly  de- 
sired him  in  the  day  of  battle."  From  that  he  proceeded 
to  remark  how  wonderfully  his  mantle  had  fallen  on  his 
successor  in  St.  George's  Church,  and  on  the  other  cham- 
pions who  had  been  provided  for  the  battle.  Dr.  Guthrie 
had  afterwards  occasion  to  differ  on  important  points  from 
Dr.  Candlish  and  others  with  whom  he  was  then  associated 
• — notably  from  Dr.  Begg,  who  was  often  his  comrade  in 
arms  in  those  days — but  no  one  ever  heard  him  say  any- 
thing but  what  was  kind  of  them  personally,  even  when  he 
most  disapproved  of  their  doings. 

When  the  Disruption  happened  in  1843,  Dr.  Guthrie's 
course  was  clear.  At  the  Convocation  he  had  taken  up  his 
ground  firmly,  and  had  been  useful  in  confirming  the  minds 
of  some  that  were  wavering  then.  On  the  i8th  of  May  he 
was  among  the  foremost  and  heartiest  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Free  Church  movement,  and  the  cheery  tones  of  his  voice, 
ringing  through  Tanfield  Hall,  were  in  singularly  close  ac- 
cord with  the  feelings  of  the  enthusiastic  multitude  that 
cheered  him  to  the  echo.  On  leaving  St.  John's  Church, 
his  congregation  obtained  temporary  accommodation  in 
the  Wesleyan  Chapel  in  Nicolson  Square.  This  served  to 
draw  closer  the  bonds  which  already  attached  him  to  the 
Wesleyan  body.  He  always  cherished  for  them  a  very 
high  esteem ;  some  of  them  were  his  most  intimate  friends, 
such  as  Mr.  Percival  Bunting,  of  Manchester,  and  the  late 
Mr.  Chubb,  of  London  ;  and  he  was  ever  ready  to  lift  up 
his  voice  on  their  behalf,  and  bear  testimony  to  the  emi- 
nent service  they  had  rendered  to  vital  religion  and  Chris- 
tian Missions.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years  a  new  church 
was  built  for  the  congregation  of  Free  St.  John's,  close  to 
the  old  one,  on  the  Castle  Hill,  and  Dr.  Guthrie  entered 


X  MEMOIR. 

on  a  new  era  of  his  ministry,  and  was  more  popular  than 
ever. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  attempt  a  critical  estimate  of  the 
style  of  his  oratory.  It  is  too  well  known  to  make  this 
necessary.  There  was  nothing  very  intellectual  in  his  ser- 
mons, nor  was  he,  in  so  far  as  substance  was  concerned, 
original.  His  originality  lay  in  his  illustrations.  The  pro- 
fusion of  imagery  at  once  delighted  and  dazzled  his  audi- 
ence ;  but  along  with  this  there  was  a  wonderful  power  of 
touching  the  feelings  and  arresting  the  sympathy. 

The  pulpit  of  Edinburgh  was  then  singularly  rich  in 
varied  and  brilliant  ability,  but  in  his  own  department  he 
wzs  facile princeps.  During  the  greater  part  of  his  minis- 
try his  sermons  were  prepared  at  no  ordinary  cost  of  time 
and  labour.  Often  the  labour  was  performed  in  the  vestry 
of  his  church,  for  the  interruptions  to  which  he  was  sub- 
ject at  home  made  continuous  application  there  impossi- 
ble. After  being  carefully  written  and  corrected,  the  ser- 
mon was  committed  to  memory — the  preacher  being  some- 
what aided  by  a  skeleton,  bringing  out  prominently  the 
leading  ideas  and  words.  But  no  pains  were  spared  in 
this  part  of  his  work ;  and  the  persevering  labour  which, 
week  after  week,  and  year  after  year,  Dr.  Guthrie  spent  in 
so  mastering  his  sermons  that  the  delivery  might  be  as 
efficient  as  possible  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  fea- 
tures of  his  character,  as  it  was  one  of  the  most  important 
elements  of  his  success. 

Nor  was  he  merely  the  orator.     His  ministry  was  fruit 
ful  in  conversion,  more,  perhaps,  in  that  than  in  the  build 
ing-up  of  the  converts.     The  gospel  message  was  brought 
to  the  ears  of  many  not  likely  to  hear  it  elsewhere;  and 
in  several  instances,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  men  who 
went  —as  Augustine  went  to  hear  Ambrose — for  the  sake 


MEMOIR.  XI 

of  the  eloquence  were,  like  him,  too,  arrested  by  the 
truths  which  the  eloquence  conveyed.  Dr.  Guthrie 
exercised  a  marked  influence  in  Edinburgh,  along  with 
other  eminent  preachers,  in  giving  to  evangelical  truth 
the  commanding  place  which  it  got  in  the  pulpit.  This 
was  one  of  the  least  noticed  results  of  his  influence  at 
the  time,  but  to  the  historian  it  will  be  held  to  be  one  of 
the  greatest  services  which  he  and  others  rendered  to  the 
Christian  Church. 

During  the  early  years  of  the  Free  Church,  no  man 
was  more  laborious  and  earnest  than  Dr.  Guthrie  in  help- 
ing forward  its  interests,  and  pleading,  not  indiscriminately 
for  all,  but  for  most  of  its  schemes.  The  interests  of  the 
country  ministers  had  a  very  large  place  in  his  heart. 
The  Building  and  Sustentation  Funds  had  done  much  to 
equalise  the  position  of  town  and  country  ministers,  but, 
notwithstanding  this,  it  was  lamentably  apparent  that,  in 
one  respect,  at  all  events,  the  country  ministers  who 
had  left  the  Establishment  were  in  much  worse  plight 
than  their  city  brethren.  In  many  cases,  the  want  of 
suitable  dwelling-houses  entailed  a  suffering  which  could 
not  be  thought  of  without  distress.  Thinking  how  he 
could  help  them,  he  was  led  to  devise  one  of  those  Her- 
culean labours,  which  only  men  of  the  largest  heart  and 
the  most  unflinching  courage  are  able  to  entertain.  He 
proposed  the  scheme  of  a  General  Manse  Fund  that 
would  give  efficient  aid  to  all,  and  he  offered  to  go  through 
the  whole  of  Scotland,  plead  for  the  fund  in  every  town, 
village,  and  parish,  where  there  was  the  likelihood  of  con- 
tributions being  got  for  it,  and  do  his  utmost  to  raise  for 
it  a  hundred  thousand  pounds.  In  many  cases,  Dr. 
Guthrie  visited  personally  all  the  members  of  congrega- 
tions who  were  able  to  give  a  good  start  to  the  subscrip- 


Xll  MEMO  US.  . 

tion,  explaining  the  arrangements  and  urging  the  c.  laims 
to  each.  At  what  an  amount  of  personal  and  domestic 
sacrifice  this  was  done  cannot  be  estimated  ;  but  one  little 
circumstance  may  be  mentioned.  In  the  midst  of  his 
engagements  for  this  fund,  scarlet  fever  assailed  his  large 
household ;  and  for  a  time,  at  each  of  the  hurried  visits 
which  he  was  able  to  snatch  from  his  work  to  visit  his 
family,  he  found  an  additional  couple  of  his  children 
prostrated  by  the  disease.  The  result  of  his  effort  was, 
that  not  only  the  proposed  one  hundred  thousand  pounds 
was  subscribed,  but  a  large  sum  beyond.  His  family  all 
recovered;  but  to  the  noble -hearted  advocate  of  the 
scheme  himself  the  consequences  were  very  serious.  The 
excessive  labour  was  too  much  even  for  his  powerful 
frame,  and,  as  happens  so  commonly  in  the  case  of  men 
whose  energies  are  over- taxed,  the  heart  became  affected 
(1848),  and  the  foundation  was  laid  of  the  ailment  which, 
after  an  interval  of  twenty-five  years,  has  now  sent  him  to  the 
grave,  to  the  irreparable  loss  of  his  Church  and  his  friends. 
Cordially  though  Dr.  Guthrie  went  in  with  the  Free 
Church  movement,  and  with  most  of  its  schemes  and 
undertakings,  he  did  not  think  that  there  was  a  call  to 
establish  an  Education  Scheme  on  the  wide  footing  con- 
templated by  other  leading  members  of  the  Church.  On 
the  subject  of  education  his  views  were  always  liberal. 
He  did  not  think  that  it  belonged  to  the  Church  to  edu- 
cate, and  he  was  very  desirous  that  those  divisions  and 
separations,  which  had  become  inevitable  in  our  churches, 
should  not  be  introduced  into  our  schools.  He  did  not, 
therefore,  deem  it  right  to  set  up  a  school  in  connection 
with  Free  St.  John's.  But  a  conviction  had  been  matur- 
ing in  his  mind  that  a  demand  of  the  most  imperative 
kind  existed  for  another  kind  of  school.  His  experience 


MEMOIR.  XI 11 

as  a  parish  minister  of  Old  Greyfriars,  had  shown  him 
that  there  was  a  mass  of  children  in  Edinburgh  whose 
parents  were  either  dead  or  utterly  profligate,  and  who, 
instead  of  being  trained  up  to  industry  and  honesty,  be- 
came the  pests  and  torments  of  the  community.  Instead 
of  throwing  his  energies  into  the  work  of  providing  an 
ordinary  day  school,  he  resolved  to  aid  in  establishing  a 
Ragged  School.  The  Ragged  School  movement  had 
already  been  begun  in  London,  under  the  auspices  of  his 
noble  friend  Lord  Shaftesbury,  then  Lord  Ashley,  and  in 
Aberdeen  under  those  of  Sheriff  Watson — but  in  Edin- 
burgh nothing  had  been  done.  To  this  triumviiate  — 
Ashley,  Watson,  and  Guthrie — this  memorable  movement 
owes  its  birth  and  much  of  its  early  success.  Dr.  Guth- 
rie's  "  Plea  for  Ragged  Schools"  was  universally  felt  to  be 
one  of  the  most  successful  brochures  of  the  kind  ever 
issued.  It  constituted  an  era  in  the  history  of  these 
undertakings.  It  did  more  than  probably  any  similar  pro- 
duction to  rouse  public  attention  to  a  class  of  children 
that  had  previously  been  utterly  neglected,  but  whose 
claims  on  Christian  philanthropists  were  of  the  most  im- 
perative kind.  His  name  became  imperishably  associated 
with  the  enterprise ;  and,  often  though  he  spoke  and 
wrote  on  it  in  after  years,  nothing  that  he  spoke  or  wrote- 
ever  eclipsed  his  first  effort,  or  cast  into  the  shade  his 
memorable  "  Plea." 

But  universally  though  the  object  was  applauded,  the 
new-born  institution  was  destined  in  its  infancy  to  pass 
through  a  severe  ordeal.  Dr.  Guthrie's  principle  always 
was  that  when  the  Directors  of  the  Ragged  Schools  under- 
•ook  the  charge  of  neglected  children  they  came  to  stand 
to  them  in  loco  parentis.  They  came  under  the  responsi- 
bilities of  parents,  and,  in  reference  to  the  religious  train- 


XIV  MEMOIR. 

ing  of  the  children,  they  were  bound  to  act  according  to 
their  view  of  what  was  right.  Consequently,  he  felt  it  a 
duty  that  all  of  the  children  should  receive  Bible  instruc- 
tion. In  the  case  of  ordinary  schools,  much  though  he 
valued  Bible  instruction,  he  would  not  have  claimed  the 
right  to  insist  on  it,  but  would  have  felt  it  right  to  leave 
it  to  the  parents ;  but  in  the  case  of  ragged  schools  and 
gutter  children  the  case  was  different.  There  the  children 
had  been  neglected  by  the  parents,  and  the  directors 
stepped  forward  to  exercise  the  function  which  had  been 
neglected  by  their  proper  guardians.  Dr.  Guthrie  would 
not  recognise  the  common  distinctions  of  sect  in  regard 
to  the  church  they  were  to  go  to — indeed,  the  Ragged 
School  children  were  sent  not  to  the  Free  but  to  the 
Established  Church ;  but  he  and  his  brother  directors 
stood  firm  to  the  Bible,  and  refused  to  propose  anything 
else,  but  that  all  who  became  pupils  of  that  school  should 
have  their  education  conducted  in  accordance  with  the 
Word  of  God.  In  this  purpose  he  was  vehemently  opposed 
by  a  number  of  influential  citizens,  who  insisted  that, 
while  a  common  secular  education  ought  to  be  given  to 
all  the  children,  their  religious  instruction  should  be 
separated,  and  Protestant  pastor  and  Romish  priest  should 
be  called  in  to  supply  the  religious  element,  according  to 
what  might  have  been  the  religious  profession  of  their 
parents.  Dr.  Guthrie  was  supported  by  the  Duke  of 
Argyll  and  many  others,  men  of  the  highest  character 
and  the  soundest  judgment,  and  the  consequence  was 
that,  while  the  United  Industrial  School  was  started  to 
carry  out  the  more  latitudinarian  programme,  Dr.  Guthrie's 
school — or  the  Original  Ragged  School — continued  to 
exhibit  an  open  Bible  as  the  symbol  of  its  practice  and 
the  source  of  its  teaching. 


MEMOIR.  XY 

We  may  introduce  here  the  testimony  of  a  competent 
authority  as  to  the  effects  of  this  noble  enterprise  in  check- 
ing the  alarming  progress  of  crime  in  the  city  of  Edin- 
burgh. Mr.  Smith,  Governor  of  the  Edinburgh  Prison, 
whose  early  interest  and  valuable  co-operation  in  the 
movement  are  well  known,  made  the  following  statement 
at  a  meeting  of  those  interested  in  Ragged  Schools,  held 
in  Edinburgh  on  the  loth  June,  1868  :  "  The  incidence 
of  the  Ragged  Schools  on  juvenile  offenders  was  soon 
apparent.  In  the  year  ended  3oth  November,  1847,  the 
commitments  of  juveniles  under  fourteen  years  of  age 
constituted  over  five  and  a-half  per  cent,  of  the  total  com- 
mitments to  prison.  In  the  year  ended  November,  1850, 
the  commitments  of  juveniles  under  fourteen  had  fallen 
to  one  and  a-third  per  cent. — that  is  to  say,  the  commit- 
ments in  the  latter  were  not  one-fourth  what  they  were  in 
the  former  of  these  years,  the  actual  numbers  being  260 
in  1847,  and  61  in  1850.  It  was  to  be  expected,  as  a 
natural  sequence,  that  if  crime  was  checked  in  juveniles 
under  fourteen,  and  fewer  of  them  were  committed  to 
prison,  there  would  also  be  fewer  of  a  class  arrived  at  a 
still  more  critical  age — namely,  youths  from  fourteen  to 
sixteen  ;  and  such  was  found  to  be  the  case.  In  the  year 
ended  November,  1848,  there  had  been  552  commitments 
of  that  class ;  in  the  year  ended  November  1850,  there  were 
227  ;  and,  not  to  occupy  time  by  a  detailed  statement 
showing  from  year  to  year  the  influence  for  good  of  ragged 
industrial  schools,  I  may  in  a  word  or  two  say  that,  when 
the  Original  Ragged  Schools  were  commenced  in  i8»47, 
there  were  five  times  as  many  commitments  of  juveniles 
as  there  were  last  year  (1868) — the  actual  numbers  being 
260  in  1847,  and  52  in  1868,  while  the  commitments  of 
youths  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  had  decreased  in  a  still 


XVI  MEMOIB. 

greater  ratio,  being  less  than  one-seventh  in  1868  of  what 
they  were  in  1848.  Of  course  this  most  pleasing  change 
is  the  result,  not  of  the  Original  Ragged  Industrial  Schools 
alone,  but  of  the  combined  action  of  these  and  all  similar 
schools  in  the  city."  To  this  we  may  add  that  the  bene- 
ficial operation  of  these  industrial  schools  has  saved  the 
city  and  county  of  Edinburgh  a  large  sum  which  it  would 
otherwise  have  been  necessary  to  expend  for  additional 
prison  accommodation.  The  institution  and  maintenance 
of  Dr.  Guthrie's  Ragged  Schools  is  the  grandest  philan- 
thropic enterprise  in  Edinburgh  during  the  present  gene- 
ration ;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  has  been  recognized  as  such 
by  all  classes.  There  were  no  public  meetings  more 
numerously  and  influentially  attended,  while  Dr.  Guthrie 
was  able  to  attend  them,  than  the  Annual  Meetings  of  the 
Original  Ragged  School,  and  no  institution  which  elicited 
a  larger  measure  of  sympathy  and  support  from  Christian 
people. 

A  considerable  part  of  his  life  had  elapsed  before  Dr. 
Guthrie  came  before  the  public  as  an  author,  apart  from 
pamphlets  and  "  pleas."  His  first,  and  certainly  not  the 
least  characteristic  or  remarkable  of  his  books,  was  "  The 
Gospel  in  Ezekiel."  It  consisted  of  a  series  of  discourses, 
which  were  very  carefully  revised  and  retouched  again 
and  again  before  they  were  submitted  to  the  public.  The 
verdict  of  the  public  was  given  most  unmistakeably  in 
its  favour.  Upwards  of  forty  thousand  copies  have  been 
sold — a  number  almost  if  not  altogether  without  precedent 
in  the  case  of  a  volume  of  sermons  somewhat  high  in 
price.  "  Ezekiel"  was  followed  by  "  Christ  and  the  In- 
heritance of  the  Saints."  The  number  of  his  works  pub- 
lished since  that  time  has  been  very  large,  mostly  of 
similar  character ;  the  great  fundamental  truths  of  the 


MEMOTR.  XV11 

Gospel  constantly  underlying  his  expositions,  and  receiv- 
ing that  brilliant  and  lively  colouring  which  has  contri- 
buted so  largely  to  the  popularity  of  his  writings.* 

The  affection  of  the-  heart  which  Dr.  Guthrie  had  con- 
tracted while  pleading  the  cause  of  the  Manse  Scheme 
made  it  imperative  that  he  should  obtain  permanent  help 
in  his  pastoral  charge.  By  special  arrangement  of  the 
General  Assembly,  St.  John's  became  for  the  time  a  col- 
legiate charge,  and  the  Rev.  William  Hanna,  of  Skirling, 
son-in-law  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  and  author  of  his  life,  be- 
came Dr.  Guthrie 's  colleague.  Wide  though  the  difference 
was  in  some  respects  in  the  nature  of  the  gifts  and  tastes 
of  the  two  men,  their  colleagueship  was  most  harmonious. 
Both  were  full  of  warmth  and  affection ;  both  were  de- 
vout and  earnest ;  both  were  interested  in  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  the  whole  congregation  ;  and  the  connection 
was  unattended  by  the  evils  which  colleagueship  often 
breeds.  Dr.  Hanna  supplied  to  the  congregation  the  ele- 
ment of  detailed  pastoral  oversight  which  the  public 
engagements  of  Dr.  Guthrie  had  not  allowed  him  to  fur- 
nish. In  compactness  and  organic  life  the  congregation 
made  great  progress  under  Dr.  Hanna's  ministry,  and,  as 
the  two  pastors  were  so  much  the  complement  of  one 
another,  the  provision  of  spiritual  nourishment  was  the 
more  complete.  The  arrangement  had  gone  on  pleas- 
antly for  a  number  of  years,  but  about  1863  Dr.  Guthrie's 
health  became  so  much  more  impaired  that  even  the  duties 
of  half  the  charge  were  more  than  he  could  sustain.  In 
the  beginning  of  1864  a  consultation  was  held  among  three 
eminent  medical  men,  all  now  deceased — Sir  J.  Y.  Simpson, 
Dr.  Begbie,  and  Professor  Miller;  as  the  result  of  which 

*  The  works  of  Dr.  Guthrie  have  been  reprinted  in  America  by  ROBERT  CARTKI 
&  BROTHERS,  in  nine  volumes. 


XV111  MEMOIR. 

it  was  found  that  he  could  no  longer  in  safety  prosec  ute 
his  ministerial  labours.  Dr.  Guthrie  was  most  reluctantly 
constrained  to  tender  a  resignation,  which  was  equivalent 
to  his  retirement,  save,  perhaps,  on  a  few  exceptional  oc- 
casions, from  the  pulpit  and  the  platform,  and  the  discon- 
tinuance of  those  modes  of  service  in  which  all  his  active 
life  he  had  been  in  use  to  do  the  work  of  his  Master. 

The  wrench  that  separated  him  was  severe.  It  seemed 
hard  for  one  who  had  gained  such  force  and  freedom  as  a 
public  speaker  to  take  his  place  as  a  silent  hearer,  and 
suppress  what  of  remaining  fire  and  energy  he  yet  felt  that 
he  possessed.  Dr.  Guthrie  acquiesced  very  quietly  in  the 
necessity.  Freedom  from  the  pressure  of  constant  duty, 
however,  tended  greatly  to  restore  his  health,  and  from 
time  to  time  during  the  following  years  he  set  the  doctors 
at  defiance,  and  raised  his  voice  with  not  a  little  of  the 
power  and  persuasion  of  former  years.  Once  and  again 
he  undertook  important  services  for  the  Church,  but  was 
unable  to  fulfil  them.  In  1867  he  was  appointed  a  deputy 
to  visit  the  Presbyterian  Churches  of  America,  along  with 
Principal  Fairbairn  and  Mr.  Wells ;  but,  after  he  had  not 
only  taken  his  passage,  but  had  sailed  to  Queenstown,  he 
found  himself  obliged  to  abandon  the  voyage  and  return 
to  Scotland.  In  1872  he  was  on  the  eve  of  setting  out  to 
fulfil  an  appointment  of  the  Continental  Committee  of  the 
Free  Church  to  officiate  in  their  Church  at  Rome ;  but 
illness  again  prevented  (October),  an  illness  so  sharp  and 
severe  that  the  gravest  fears  were  excited  among  his 
friends  that  he  would  not  recover. 

Dr.  Guthrie  was  not  left  without  substantial  proofs  of 
the  esteem  and  sympathy  of  his  friends  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  was  now  placed.  A  movement  was 
set  on  foot  for  presenting  him  with  a  testimonial  that 


MEMOIR.  XIX 

should  at  once  show  the  regard  in  which  he  was  held,  and 
form  an  item  in  the  sources  of  support  for  him  and  his 
family  in  the  future.  His  professional  income  had  always 
been  small,  not  exceeding  five  or  six  hundred  pounds 
a-year,  and  it  was  only  with  such  a  struggle  as  many  of 
the  clergy  knew  well  that  he  could  make  it  suffice  for  the 
wants  of  his  family.  The  sum  of  five  thousand  pounds 
was  very  cheerfully  contributed  by  friends  and  admirers 
in  all  parts  of  the  kingdom.  The  late  Mr.  Robert  Balfour, 
secretary  of  the  City  of  Glasgow  Insurance  Company  in 
Edinburgh,  conducted  the  business  part  of  this  move- 
ment, and  it  was  largely  owing  to  his  rare  tact  and  perse- 
verance that  it  proved  so  thoroughly  successful.  Some 
pieces  of  plate  accompanied  the  gift,  and  the  spokesman 
on  the  occasion  of  the  presentation  was  the  late  Mr.  George 
Dalziel,  W.  S.,  an  elder  of  Dr.  Guthrie's  congregation,  and 
one  of  his  most  attached  personal  friends. 

Not  long  after  his  retirement  it  was  proposed  to  him  by 
Mr.  Strahan  that  he  should  undertake  the  editorship  of 
the  Sunday  Magazine,  which  that  enterprising  publisher 
was  at  that  time  projecting.  The  proposal  which  Mr. 
Strahan  has  told  the  public  he  made  to  the  late  Dr. 
Macleod  when  he  started  Good  Words  was  made  more 
emphatically  to  Dr.  Guthrie,  that,  if  Dr.  Guthrie  would 
become  captain  of  the  ship,  Mr.  Strahan  himself  would 
do  the  duty  of  the  sailing  master.  Dr.  Guthrie  felt  that 
the  duties  of  an  editor  were  somewhat  alien  to  his  habits, 
and  hesitated  about  the  proposal.  But,  as  the  post  was 
not  of  his  seeking,  as  the  offer  of  it  coincided  with  his 
retirement  under  providential  circumstances  from  his  own 
more  cherished  sphere,  as  Mr.  Strahan  was  to  relieve  him 
of  editorial  details,  as  the  opportunity  of  usefulness  was 
great,  and  as  many  cpllaborateurs  of  his  own  views  were 


XX  MEMOIR. 

willing  to  give  their  aid,  Dr.  Guthrie  agreed.  As  he  left 
the  management  to  a  large  degree  in  Mr.  Strahan's  hands, 
the  magazine  in  some  departments  did  not  exhibit  all  his 
image  and  superscription,  but  it  has  ever  been  marked  by 
at  least  two  of  his  characteristics — his  catholicity  of  spirit, 
eager  to  welcome  and  to  turn  to  account  the  good  of 
Christian  men  of  all  denominations,  and  his  noble  Chris- 
tian philanthropy — his  intense  sympathy  with  sorrow  and 
suffering,  and  his  unfaltering  confidence  in  the  Gospel  as 
the  foundation  of  all  that  is  truly  fitted  to  elevate  and 
bless  mankind. 

Set  free  as  Dr.  Guthrie  now  was  from  the  pressure  of 
constant  work,  he  was  enabled  to  avail  himself  more  fully 
of  a  source  of  pleasure  which  he  had  always  greatly 
relished — travel  in  foreign  countries.  France,  Switzer- 
land, and  Italy  were  all  objects  of  great  interest  and 
sources  of  much  enjoyment.  But  of  all  the  places  and 
people  that  he  knew,  none  laid  a  greater  hold  of  his  heart 
than  the  Piedmontese  valleys  and  their  people.  For  the 
last  few  years  of  his  life  the  Waldensian  Churches  were 
cherished  with  the  warmest  regard,  not  simply  on  their 
own  account,  but  because  he  regarded  them  as  destined 
in  the  providence  of  God  to  perform  a  right  memorable 
service  in  the  cause  of  the  Gospel  in  Italy.  He  always 
regarded  the  Waldenses  as  the  proper  evangelists  of  Italy, 
and  urged  their  mission  with  singular  earnestness  on  pub- 
lic attention.  He  preached,  wrote  or  spoke  on  their  be- 
half;  attended  London  drawing-rooms,  and  sought  to  in- 
terest high  and  low  in  their  welfare.  It  was  a  great  joy  to 
him  to  see  Italy  free  for  the  entrance  of  the  Gospel ;  but, 
the  door  having  been  set  open,  he  urgently  sought  that 
the  right  agents  should  enter  in.  Some  of  his  friends,  he 
thought,  might  have  given  their  active  support  to  the 


MEMOIR.  XXI 

Waldensian  Mission  instead  of  setting  up  a  denominational 
enterprise  of  their  own. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  enumerate  all  the.  Christian  and 
charitable  objects  to  which  Dr.  Guthrie  contributed  his 
powerful  advocacy.  Wherever  there  was  suffering  to  be 
redressed,  and  an  adaptation  between  the  means  proposed 
and  the  end  contemplated,  he  was  eager  to  aid  to  the  ut- 
most of  his  power.  In  the  earlier  part  of  his  life  he  was 
a  zealous  teetotaler,  but  the  illness  under  which  he  suffered, 
rendering  it  necessary  by  medical  orders  that  his  system 
should  be  stimulated,  he  had  not  the  same  freedom  in 
advocating  teetotalism  as  he  would  otherwise  have  had. 
Among  the  objects  that  specially  interested  him  of  late 
years  we  may  mention  the  Contagious  Diseases  Act.  He 
was  thoroughly  opposed  to  them  root  and  branch  ;  yet  he 
could  not  but  feel  that  our  army  system,  making  little  or 
no  provision  for  the  marriage  of  soldiers,  was  the  root  of 
bitterness  that  tempted  our  legislators  and  doctors  to  fall 
on  the  device  of  these  Acts — a  device  in  whose  eft  racy, 
even  for  medical  purposes,  he  had  no  confidence.  The 
education  question  greatly  interested  him,  and  hh  brief 
letter  on  that  subject  to  the  people  of  Scotland  produced 
a  great  impression.  The  union  of  the  Nonconformist 
Presbyterian  Churches  of  Scotland  was  also  very  dear  to 
his  heart ;  and,  seeing  clearly  the  blessings  it  was  likely 
to  bring,  and  the  scandal  and  other  evils  it  would  avert, 
he  mourned  as  a  great  public  calamity  the  opposition, 
founded  on  somewhat  subtle  theoretical  principles,  that 
grew  to  such  a  height. 

In  conversation  Dr.  Guthrie  shone  greatly.  His  man- 
ner was  easy,  natural,  and  very  lively ;  he  always  showed 
a  courteous  respect  for  his  company,  and  seemed  to  know 
instinctively  how  to  accommodate  himself  to  them.  Full 


MEMOIR. 

of  humour,  his  wit  often  flowed  in  a  sparkling  stream, 
making  him  the  most  agreeable  of  companions.  But  even 
in  miscellaneous  company  he  knew  how  to  serve  his  Mas- 
ter, and  those  who  were  much  with  him  can  remember 
occasions  in  which  he  showed  no  small  measure  of  moral 
courage  and  faithfulness  in*  this  way.  Some  persons  have 
the  impression  that  his  respect  for  the  aristocracy  was  be- 
yond what  might  have  been  looked  for  in  one  of  so  manly 
and  Christian  a  type  of  character.  We  believe  that  this 
was  a  mistake.  Dr.  Guthrie  was  neither  an  aristocrat  nor 
a  toady  of  aristocrats.  He  was  essentially  a  man  of  the 
people  and  for  the  people.  He  neyer  used  his  influence 
with  the  upper  classes  for  himself  or  for  any  of  his  chil- 
dren. He  encouraged  his  family  to  continue  in  that  indus- 
trious middle  class  in  which  they  were  born,  as  not  only 
what  was  natural,  but  also  as  what  was  the  best  and  hap- 
piest lot  for  them.  The  ranks  of  the  upper  ten  thousand 
had  quite  as  many  drawbacks  as  advantages  in  his  eyes, 
even  for  those  born  in  them,  and  far  more  for  those  who 
might  climb  into  them.  At  the  same  time  it  is  quite  true 
that  his  attractive  manners  and  character,  as  well  as  his 
eminent  position,  greatly  impressed  some  members  of  the 
aristocracy,  and  led  them  to  cultivate  his  society.  No 
one  can  accuse  of  sycophancy  to  the  Sutherland  family 
the  man  who  went  up  and  down  the  whole  country,  while 
advocating  the  Manse  Scheme,  telling  of  the  two  ministers 
of  Tongue — father  and  son — whom  he  found  dying  in 
separate  closets  of  the  miserable  dwelling  to  which  they 
had  been  obliged  to  betake  themselves.  It  was  creditable 
to  the  Duke  of  Sutherland,  not  only  that  he  came  to  see 
his  error  in  opposing  the  Free  Church,  but  that  he  be- 
came the  friend  of  the  man  who  drew  so  much  attention 
and  sympathy  to  this  distressing  case.  Certain  it  is  that 


.MEMOIR.  »  XX111 

the  regard  of  the  late  Duke  and  Duchess  for  Dr.  Guthrie 
was  of  the  highest  kind.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Argyll,  too,  had  the  warmest  affection  for  him,  and  in 
their  house  he  was  in  the  habit  of  meeting  the  first  society 
of  the  country.  Instances  could  be  told  of  his  refusing 
to  meet  men  even  of  the  highest  rank  when  he  knew  them 
to  be  living  as  they  ought  not  to  have  been. 

To  his  friends — those  in  his  own  sphere  of  life — Dr. 
Guthrie's  attachment  was  very  strong.  Any  ill-treatment 
of  them  vexed  him  most  deeply.  When  he  was  moved 
to  keen  and  vehement  words  it  was  because  his  heart  was 
smarting  for  the  wound  of  his  friend.  He  was  greatly 
displeased  when  the  late  Dr.  Gunn,  of  the  High  School, 
was  objected  to  and  cast  overboard  as  Government  In- 
spector of  Schools  for  the  Free  Church  ;  not  less  so  when 
Dr.  Cunningham's  views  of  college  matters  were  over- 
borne ;  and  most  of  all  when  disrespectful  language  was 
applied  in  the  course  of  the  Union  controversy  to  Dr. 
Candlish  and  other  fathers,  to  whom  he  felt  that  the  Free 
Church  owed  more  than  words  .could  tell.  Sons  and 
daughters  of  old  friends  had'  always  a  warm  place  in  his 
heart.  His  circle  of  friendship  was  very  wide,  and  few 
that  knew  him  will  fail  to  cherish  the  remembrance  of 
their  intercourse  with  him  among  the  most  interesting" 
events  of  their  life. 

Dr.  Guthrie  was  well  read  and  well  informed  on  ordi- 
nary subjects,  but,  as  he  readily  acknowledged,  he  was  no 
scholar.  His  intellect  was  intuitive  rather  than  logical. 
His  reasons  were  the  reasons  of  common  sense,  founded 
on  human  nature  and  his  observations  of  its  workings.  In 
fact,  the  great  sagacity  of  Dr.  Guthrie,  in  combination  with 
genius,  formed  one  of  his  most  remarkable  characteris- 
tics. The.  dash  of  eccentricity  which  is  usually  allied  to 


MEMOIB. 

genius  was  not  to  be  traced  in  him.  He  was  as  sound  in 
judgment  as  he  was  imaginative  and  discursive  in  elo- 
quence. But  he  was  not  familiar  with  musty  folios  of 
Greek  and  Latin.  It  was  more  in  deference  to  his  posi- 
tion  as  a  distinguished  minister  of  the  Gospel,  orator,  and 
social  reformer,  than  as  an  erudite  divine,  that  in  1849  the 
University  of  Edinburgh  conferred  on  him  the  degree  of 
D.D., — the  first  instance  of  their  giving  that  honour  to  a 
minister  of  the  Free  Church. 

Dr.  Guthrie,  as  we  have  said,  married  a  daughter  of  the 
late  Rev.  James  Burns,  of  Brechin,  whose  constant  devo- 
tion to  her  husband,  and  cordial  sympathy  with  him  in  all 
his  many-sided  labours,  did  much  to  render  Dr.  Guthrie's 
one  of  the  happiest,  as  well  as  most  useful  of  lives.  Their 
family  was  large,  consisting  of  ten  children — six  sons  and 
four  daughters.  Nothing  could  have  been  smoother  or 
happier  than  the  course  of  his  family  life,  nor  could  a 
father  well  have  left  a  family  behind  him  more  disposed  to 
tread  in  his  footsteps,  or  more  full  of  honour  for  his  ex- 
ample and  his  memory. 


LAST    ILLNESS. 

DR.  GUTHRIE  left  Edinburgh  on  the  2pth  of  January. 
He  travelled  in  one  day  to  London,  and  stood  the  journey 
well.  While  in  London,  he  saw  Dr.  Walshe,  the  eminent 
consulting  physician  for  diseases  of  the  heart  and  lungs. 
Dr.  Walshe  gave  a  report  which  considerably  cheered  the 
members  of  the  family,  but  at  the  same  time  indicated 
clearly  the  very  dangerous  nature  of  Dr.  Guthrie's  malady. 
On  the  following  day  Dr.  Guthrie  went  to  St,  Leonards, 


MEMOIR.  XXV 

and  was  much  fatigued  by  the  journey  there.  During  his 
residence  at  St.  Leonards  the  weather  was  very  unfavour- 
able, and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  be  so  much  in  the 
open  air  as  he  had  been  advised  was  necessary  for  his  re- 
covery. He  made  no  progress,  but  became  slowly  weaker. 
It  was  not  till  Sunday,  i6th  February,  however,  that  any 
immediate  alarm  was  felt.  On  that  day  he  accompanied, 
in  a  carriage,  some  members  of  his  family  to  the  United 
Presbyterian  Church  at  Silver  Hill.  He  did  not  go  in, 
but  returned  in  the  carriage,  and  was  very  much  exhausted 
on  the  way  home.  On  Sunday  night  he  was  restless,  and 
had  several  attacks  of  fainting.  On  Monday  he  became 
so  alarmingly  ill  that,  on  the  advice  of  Dr.  Underwood,  of 
Hastings,  who  attended  him  during  his  residence  at  St, 
Leonards,  the  different  members  of  his  family  were  sum- 
moned. There  were,  besides  Mrs.  Guthrie,  (who  accom- 
panied her  husband  to  St.  Leonards,)  five  sons  present- 
Rev.  David  K.  Guthrie,  Free  Church  minister  of  Liber- 
ton,  near  Edinburgh ;  James  Guthrie,  agent  of  the  Royal 
Bank,  Brechin ;  Patrick  Guthrie,  of  Dymock  &  Guthrie, 
Edinburgh;  Thomas  Guthrie,  of  Quilmes,  near  Buenos 
Ayres ;  and  Charles  John  Guthrie,  student  for  the  Scotch 
bar.  The  only  son  absent  was  Alexander,  of  Balfour,  Guth- 
rie &  Co.,  merchants,  San  Francisco,  who  is  at  present  in 
California.  Three  daughters  were  present — Mrs.  Welsh, 
Mrs.  Williamson,  and  Miss  Guthrie ;  the  youngest  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  David  Gray,  Glasgow,  being  absent  through  ill- 
ness ;  two  sons-in-law — Rev.  William  Welsh,  of  Mossfen- 
nan,  Free  Church  minister  of  Broughton ;  and  Stephen 
Williamson,  Copley,  Cheshire,  of  Balfour,  Williamson  & 
Co.,  merchants,  Liverpool ;  Mrs.  Patrick  Guthrie,  a  daugh- 
ter-in-law, was  also  present.  On  Tuesday  morning  he 
was  pronounced  sinking,  and  it  was  not  expected  that  he 


XXVI  MEMOIR. 

could  survive  more  than  a  few  hours.  Gradually,  however, 
Nhe  rallied,  and  completely  emerged  out  of  the  state  of  par- 
tial insensibility  into  which  he  had  fallen.  Notwithstand- 
ing this  rally,  his  strength  steadily  decreased  until  the 
close;  his  voice,  once  so  rich  and  powerful,  became  grad- 
ually reduced  to  a  whisper.  The  massive  frame  lay  help- 
less like  a  child  in  the  arms  of  his  attendants,  and  the  eyes 
so  full  of  expression  became  dim  and  lustreless,  but  the 
mind  remained  clear  and  powerful  to  the  close.  Often  he 
was  much  oppressed  with  drowsiness,  and  at  such  times  it 
was  difficult  to  know  whether  he  clearly  understood  all 
that  was  said  to  him,  but  when  he  emerged  from  such 
state  all  the  old  mental  vigour  returned.  On  Sunday 
morning,  the  day  before  he  died,  one  of  his  sons  was  read- 
ing to  him  the  passage  "  Hell  and  the  grave  combined 
their  force,"  and  though  at  the  time  his  eyes  were  shut,  he 
remarked  quite  distinctly  that  the  word  translated  "  Hell" 
there  only  meant  the  state  of  the  dead.  Within  an  hour 
before  death,  he  made  by  signs  an  intelligible  answer  to 
a  question  put  to  him.  He  then  passed  into  a  very  sound 
sleep,  from  which  he  never  woke.  About  ten  minutes  be- 
fore he  breathed  his  last,  his  nurse,  a  Highland  girl,  to 
whom  he  was  much  attached,  and  on  whose  arms  he  was 
resting,  remarked  that  the  wrinkles  on  his  forehead  were 
smoothing  out.  The  members  of  the  family  not  at  the 
time  present  were  at  once  called,  and  in  their  presence,  at 
twenty  minutes  past  two,  on  the  morning  of  Monday  the 
24th  February,  1873,  without  a  struggle  or  sigh,  and  so 
peacefully  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  the  exact  moment 
of  departure,  Thomas  Guthrie  passed  away. 

His  conversation  during  the  last  week  of  his  life  was  full 
of  affection,  wisdom,  and  joy.  He  was  frequently  under 
great  bodily  distress  from  breathlessness,  but  he  nevei 


MEMOIR.  XXV11 

murmured,  although  he  often  prayed  that  he  might  have 
a  speedy  deliverance.  Towards-  the  close  he  longed  to 
depart,  and  viewed  with  no  feelings  of  dread,  but  rather  of 
thankfulness,  the  signs  of  approaching  dissolution.  One 
day  his  sight  was  somewhat  confused,  and  when  one  of 
his  family  remarked  that  this  was  of  "  little  significance," 
he  said,  "Ah,  no;  it  is  just  like  the  land  birds  coming 
lighting  on  the  mast,  which  presage  to  the  weary  mariner 
the  nearness  of  his  desired  haven."  On  Saturday,  Admi- 
ral Baillie  Hamilton,  who  has  visited  him  daily  and  whose 
kindness  he  valued  highly,  told  him  he  thought  he  was 
looking  better.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  a  good  man  comes  with 
evil  tidings."  He  delighted  to  talk  of  Heaven,  and  of  the 
many  friends  gone  before  who  would  welcome  him  there. 
In  particular  he  pictured  to  himself  his  son  John,  who  died 
in  infancy  and  whose  memory  he  always  fondly  cherished, 
running  to  the  golden  gate  to  meet  him.  He  had  no  doubt 
of  the  recognition  of  friends  in  Heaven,  and,  in  reference 
to  this,  quoted  the  saying  of  an  old  woman — "  Do  you 
think  we  shall  be  more  foolish  in  Heaven  than  we  are 
here  ?"  On  Thursday  the  Rev.  Thomas  Vores,  incumbent 
of  St.  Mary-in-the-Castle,  whose  attention  he  highly  val- 
ued, prayed  with  him.  Dr.  Guthrie  was  too  weak  to  speak 
directly  to  him,  but  whispered  to  one  of  his  sons — "  Tell 
him  my  journey  is  nearly  ended — ask  him  to  pray  that  I 
may  have  a  speedy  entrance  into  Heaven,  and  that  we  may 
have  a  happy  meeting  there,  where  we  shall  no  longer 
have  to  proclaim  Christ,  but  where  we  shall  enjoy  Him  for 
ever  and  ever." 

Yet  he  never  lost  his  interest  earthwards.  He  spoke  to 
each  member  of  his  family  with  the  most  overflowing  affec- 
tion. He  was  greatly  gratified  by  them  all,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  two,  being  able  to  be  present,  and  he  often  thanked 


XXV111  MEMOIR. 

God  for  the  comfort  they  had  all  without  exception  been 
to  him.  To  those  absent  he  sent  loving  messages,  saying 
to  one  of  them,  "  Stand  up  for  Christ  in  all  circumstances." 
These  words,  "  Stand  up  for  Christ,"  he  repeated  twice, 
and  very  emphatically.  To  many  of  his  many  friends 
he  also  desired  to  be  remembered,  and  always  asked  an 
interest  in  their  prayers.  One  of  the  most  touching  inci- 
dents of  his  illness  was  the  affection  he  displayed  towards 
one  of  his  grandchildren,  Anita  Williamson,  a  little  child 
of  four  years  of  age.  When  she  was  taken  into  the  sick 
room  and  shown  to  Dr.  Guthrie,  a  smile  full  of  the  old 
sweetness,  but  such  as  suffering  had  almost  banished,  at 
once  lit  up  his  face.  He  flung  his  arms  around  the  little 
child's  neck,  kissed  her,  and  called  her  endearing  names. 
It  was  very  affecting  to  see  her  thereafter  sitting  on  the 
bed  fanning  him  or  rubbing  his  often  chilly  hands.  On 
the  day  before  he  died  she  came  into  the  room  as  usual 
in  the  morning.  His  eyes  by  this  time  were  very  much 
changed,  but  the  moment  he  saw  her  he  said,  "  Put  her 
up;"  and  when,  having  been  lifted  on  to  the  bed,  she  crept 
up  to  him  and  kissed  him,  he  nodded  to  her  and  whis- 
pered, "  My  bonnie  lamb."  His  hope  and  confidence 
never  waveied,  and  nothing  was  more  striking  than  the 
calm  way  in  which  he  expressed  them.  The  mingling  of 
reason  with  faith  was  as  noticeable  in  his  death  as  in  his 
life;  yet  his  trust  was  as  simple  as  that  of  a  child.  Dur- 
ing his  illness  he  was  often  soothed  by  hymn  and  psalm 
singing,  and  of  no  hymns  was  he  more  fond  than  such  as 
are  called  "children's  hymns" — such  as  "Jesus,  tender 
Shepherd,  her.r  me ;  bless  Thy  little  lamb  to-night,"  and 
"  There  is  a  happy  land."  On  Friday  night  he  asked  his 
family  to  sing,  and,  on  being  asked  what  he  would  like,  he 
"aid,  "  Give  me  a  bairn's  hymn."  He  often  thanked  God 


MEMOIR.  XXIX 

he  had  not  left  his  preparation  to  a  dying  hour,  and  re- 
marked on  the  folly  of  those  who  leave  "  to  the  mercies  of 
a  moment  the  vast  concerns  of  an  eternal  scene."  He 
placed  his  whole  confidence  in  Christ,  and  when  asked  on 
Tuesday  morning,  at  a  time  when  he  was  thought  to  be 
sinking,  "  You  have  that  Saviour  now  ?"  "  Yes,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  none  else."  Even  when  unable  to  speak  many 
words,  and  in  bodily  distress,  his  ejaculations  showed  how 
peaceful  was  his  mind.  On  the  same  morning  he  was 
heard  to  say,  "  On  the  other  side,"  and  again,  with  a  sweet 
smile  on  his  face,  "  Happy,  happy!" 

The  disease  of  the  heart  under  which  he  suffered  was 
one  of  long  standing.  Twenty-four  years  ago  he  was  told 
by  the  late  Sir  James  Clark,  the  eminent  consulting  phy- 
sician in  London,  that  he  could  not  preach  again.  At  that 
time,  and  in  subsequent  years,  he  consulted  Sir  James 
Simpson,  Professor  Miller,  Dr.  James  Begbie,  and  his 
brother,  Dr.  Alexander  Guthrie,  of  Breehin,  all  of  whom 
thought  ill  of  his  case,  but  yet  all  of  whom  he  has  sur- 
vived. Latterly  he  had  consulted  Sir  Robert  Christison, 
Dr.  Gumming,  and  Dr.  Warburton  Begbie  in  Edinburgh, 
and,  as  already  mentioned,  Dr.  Walshe,  in  London.  At 
St.  Leonards,  as  above  stated,  he  was  attended  by  Dr. 
Underwood.  His  malady  was  complicated  by  a  severe 
attack  of  rheumatism,  which  he  had  last  year,  and  which 
seemed  to  have  left  permanent  effects  behind.  During  his 
ast  illness  he  suffered  no  pain,  but  very  great  uneasiness, 
tfhich  he  bore  with  a  wonderful  patience. 

That  catholicity  which  was  so  prominent  a  feature  of 
Dr.  Guthrie's  character  was  well  exemplified  in  his  dying 
hours.  The  clergymen  who  attended  him,  and  prayed 
with  him  almost  daily,  were  the  Rev.  Thomas  Vores,  of 
the  Church  of  England,  the  Rev.  James  Griffin,  of  the  In* 


XXX  MEMOIR. 

dependent  Church,  and  the  Rev.  Geo.  Carr,  of  The  United 
Presbyterian  Church.  Their  visits  he  always  welcomed 
with  pleasure,  as  he  did  also  those  of  Admiral  Baillie  Ham- 
ilton, who  is  a  member  of  the  Episcopalian  Church.  On 
Sunday  prayers  were  offered  for  him  in  many  of  the 
churches  and  chapels  in  Hastings  and  St.  Leonards. 

Death,  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Guthrie,  has  been  robbed  of 
much  of  its  terror.  Notwithstanding  the  distressing  nature 
of  his  complaint,  he  has  had  merciful  intervals  of  relief 
from  pain,  and  has  been  enabled  to  testify  by  his  death, 
as  he  has  done  by  his  long  and  useful  life,  to  the  support 
and  consolation  of  the  faith  which  was  in  him.  Attended 
by  his  devoted  wife  and  most  of  the  members  of  his  fam- 
ily, he  had  all  the  solace  which  domestic  affection  and 
tenderness  could  afford ;  and  committing  them  and  him- 
self to  his  Saviour,  he  has  thus  died,  like  the  old  Hebrew 
patriarch,  at  a  distance  from  his  native  place  indeed,  but 
in  a  good  old  age,  and  in  the  presence  of  all  his  brethren. 
In  his  pilgrim  progress  he  had  reached  the  land  of  Beulah, 
remaining  peacefully  and  contentedly  there  till  the  King's 
messenger  came  for  him  with  a  sure  token ;  or,  to  use  his 
own  beautiful  thought,  he  felt  as  if  he  was  permitted  to 
mount  to  the  mast-head  now  and  then,  to  look  out  for  the 
desired  haven.  He  has  now  reached  the  happy  shore,  and 
those  who  are  left  behind  may  weep  for  themselves,  but 
cannot  weep  for  him.  And  yet,  after  all  the  warnings  we 
have  had,  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that  the  tall,  stately  form, 
the  genial  countenance,  the  ready  smile  and  sympathizing 
word  of  Dr.  Guthrie  will  never  more  be  seen  or  heard  in 
Dur  midst. 

Dr.  Candlish  preached  on  Sunday  morning  (March  2d) 
in  Free  St.  John's  Church,  which  was  densely  crowded, 
from  the  text,  Hebrews  ix.  27,  28  :  "  And  as  it  is  appoint- 


MEMOIR.  XXXI 

ed  unto  men  to  die,  but  after  this  the  judgment,  so  Christ 
was  once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of  many  :  and  unto  them 
that  look  for  him  shall  he  appear  the  second  time,  without 
sin,  unto  salvation."  In  concluding  his  discourse,  he  said  : 
I  ask  you,  beloved  brethren,  to  listen  to  these  sentences 
which  I  am  about  to  read,  and  which  are  not  mine,  but 
another's.  "  Thank  God,  my  tongue  has  been  unloosed !" 
"  All  reserve  is  gone — I  can  speak  out  now."  "  Oh  !  most 
mighty  and  most  merciful,  pity  me,  once  a  great  sinner, 
and  now  a  great  sufferer."  "  Blessed  Jesus  !  what  would 
I  now  do  but  for  Thee  !"  "  I  am  a  father,  and  I  know 
what  a  father's  heart  is.  My  love  to  my  children  is  no 
more  to  God's  infinite  love  as  a  Father  than  one  drop  of 
water  to  that  boundless  ocean  out  there."  "  Death  is 
mining  away  here,  slowly  but  surely,  in  the  dark."  "  I 
often  thought,  and  even  hoped,  in  past  years,  that  God 
would  have  granted  me  a  translation  like  Chalmers  or 
Andrew  Thomson.  But  it  would  appear  now  this  is  not 
to  be  the  way  of  it."  "  Oh  !  the  power  yet  in  that  arm  " 
— the  right  arm  stretched  out  with  force  while  in  bed. 
"  I  doubt  it  presents  the  prospect  of  a  long  fight.  And  if 
so,  Lord  help  me  to  turn  my  dying  hours  to  better  pur- 
pose than  ever  my  preaching  ones  have  been."  "  The 
days  have  come  in  which  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them." 
"  Vanitas  Vanitatum  !  I  would  at  this  moment  gladly  give 
all  my  money  and  all  my  fame  for  that  poor  body's  "  (a 
smiling  countrywoman  tripping  by) — "  vigour  and  cheer- 
fulness." "  A  living  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion."  "  I 
have  often  seen  death-beds.  I  have  often  described  them ; 
but  I  had  no  conception  till  now  of  what  hard  work  dying 
really  is  !"  "  Had  I  known  this  years  ago,  as  I  know  it 
now,  I  would  have  felt  far  more  for  others  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances than  I  ever  did."  "  Ah  !  my  dear  children, 


XXX11  MEMOIR. 

you  see  I  am  now  just  as  helpless  in  your  arms  as  you 
ever  were  in  mine."  Of  telegraphic  messages  about  him, 
ae  said  :  "  I  bless  God  for  the  telegraph ;  because  these 
will  serve  as  calls  to  God's  people  to  mind  me  in  their 
prayers.  Of  the  Queen's  inquiry  :  "  It  is  very  kind."  Of 
a  young  attendant :  "  Affection  is  very  sweet ;  and  it  is  all 
one  from  whatever  quarter  it  comes — whether  from  this 
Highland  lassie  or  from  a  peeress — just  as  to  a  thirsty  man 
cold  water  is  equally  grateful  from  a  spring  on  the  hillside 
as  from  a  richly  ornamented  fountain."  Parting  with  a 
humble  servant :  "  God  bless  you,  my  friend."  "  I  would 
be  most  willing  that  any  man  who  ever  wrote  or  spoke 
against  me  should  come  in  at  that  door,  and  I  would  shake 
hands  with  him."  These  are  fresh  and  racy  death-bed 
utterances ;  true  to  the  nature  of  the  man  who,  to  the  last, 
retained  his  genial  originality  ;  the  man  who,  with  genuine 
courtesy  and  his  wonted  humour,  apologized  for  the  trou- 
ble he  was  giving,  referring  to  Charles  the  Second's  beg- 
ging his  courtiers  to  excuse  him  for  being  such  an  uncon- 
scionable time  in  dying ;  the  man  who,  child-like  as  he 
always  was,  chose  "  bairns'  hymns,"  as  he  called  them,  for 
his  solace  in  his  weakness :  "  Oh  !  that  will  be  joyful," 
"  There  is  a  happy  land ;"  relishing  them  as  he  relished 
that  one  of  Cowper's  "  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with 
blood ;"  and  preferring  them  to  all  other  uninspired  songs 
of  praise.  Here  I  would  fain  stop,  and  leave  the  last 
words  of  a  singularly  true  and  gifted  man  to  tell  with  their 
own  proper  weight,  free  from  the  intrusion  of  more  com- 
monplace remarks.  I  cannot,  in  fact,  in  the  view  of  such 
an  affecting  chamber  of  sickness,  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
deal  in  the  ordinary  topics  of  consolation  and  edification 
for  which  death  furnishes  occasion.  I  am  in  no  mood  for 
moralizing  or  sermonizing  over  my  beloved  brother's  grave. 


MEMOES.  XXX111 

Nor  can  I  attempt  to  compose  a  funeral  oration  or  doge 
upon  the  life  and  character,  the  rare  endowments  and  ac- 
complishments, the  manifold  good  works  and  services  of 
him  who  is  gone.  This  is  not  the  place,  this  is  not  the 
time  for  eulogy.  I  am  not  the  man  competent  to  such  a 
theme.  His  praise  is  in  all  the  churches,  and  through  all 
society  in  many  lands.  I  am  here  simply  to  express  my 
own  feelings  and  yours  under  the  pressure  of  a  heavy 
grief.  How  I  admired  and  loved  Thomas  Guthrie,  and 
how  he  reciprocated  my  affection  during  all  the  years, 
some  five-and-thirty,  of  our  close  familiarity  and  most  in- 
timate and  cordial  friendship ;  how  genuine  and  trust- 
worthy a  friend  I  ever  found  him ;  what  experience  I  have 
often  had  of  his  noble  generosity ;  how  very  pleasant  he 
has  been  to  me,  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  say.  Friend 
and  brother,  comrade  in  the  fight,  companion  in  tribula- 
tion, farewell !  But  not  for  ever.  May  my  soul,  when  my 
hour  comes,  be  with  thine !  A  great  man  truly  in  Israel 
has  fallen.  Men  of  talents,  men  of  abilities,  men  of  learn- 
ing, are  not  uncommon.  Men  powerful  in  thought  and 
speech  are  often  raised  up.  But  genius,  real  poetic  genius 
like  Guthrie's,  comes  but  once  in  many  generations.  We 
shall  not  look  upon  his  like  soon,  if  ever.  Nor  was  it  ge- 
nius alone  distinguished  him.  The  warm  heart  was  his 
and  the  ready  hand ;  the  heart  to  feel,  the  hand  to  work. 
No  sentimental  dreamer  or  mooning  idealist  was  he.  His 
pity  was  ever  active.  Tears  he  had,  but  also  far  more 
than  tears,  for  all  who  needed  sympathy  and  help.  His 
graphic  pictures  of  the  scenes  of  misery  he  witnessed  were 
inspired  by  no  idle  dreamy  philanthropy  after  the  fashion 
of  Sterne  or  Rousseau,  but  by  a  human  love  for  all  human 
beings,  intensely  real  and  vigorously  energetic.  His  self- 
denying  labours  among  the  families  of  the  Cowgate,  where 


XXXIV  MEMOIR. 

he  shrank  from  no  drudgery  for  himself,  and  shunned  no 
contact  with  poverty  and  vice  in  others ;  his  noble  zeal  in 
every  good  and  holy  cause ;  his  rising,  almost  alone  at 
first,  to  the  full  height  of  one  of  his  best  enterprises — the 
rescuing  of  children  from  sin  and  sorrow,  from  ignorance 
and  crime ;  these  and  many  other  like  memorials  of  his 
wide,  comprehensive,  practical  benevolence,  will  not  soon 
pass  from  the  grateful  memories  of  his  countrymen.  The 
fruits  of  his  evangelical  ministrations,  and  that  powerful 
preaching  of  the  Word  which  captivated  so  many  thousand 
ears  and  hearts,  the  day  will  declare.  The  blank  which 
his  removal  makes  in  our  own  Church,  the  Church  of  our 
fathers,  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland,  is  one  that  can 
scarcely  soon,  if  ever,  be  supplied.  It  will  be  felt  for  years 
to  come.  In  fact,  the  Church  does  not  seem  to  me  wnat 
it  was  now  that  Guthrie  is  away.  He  was  a  power  unique 
in  himself,  and  rising  in  his  uniqueness  above  other  pow- 
ers. He  did  not  indeed  venture  much  on  the  uncongenial 
domain,  to  him,  of  ecclesiastical  polemics,  or  the  wear  and 
tear  of  ordinary  church  administration,  leaving  that  to 
others  whose  superiority  in  their  department  he  was  al- 
ways the  first  to  acknowledge.  But  in  his  own  sphere, 
and  in  his  own  way,  he  was  to  us,  and  to  the  principles  on 
which  we  acted,  a  tower  of  strength.  His  eloquence  alone 
— so  expressive  of  himself — so  thoroughly  inspired  by  his 
personal  idiosyncracy — so  full  always  of  genial  humour — 
so  apt  to  flash  into  darts  of  wit — and  yet  withal  so  pro- 
foundly emotional  and  ready  for  passionate  or  affectionate 
appeals — that  gift  or  endowment  alone  made  Guthrie  an 
invaluable  boon  to  our  Church  in  the  times  of  her  ten 
years'  conflict  and  afterwards.  But  the  Guthrie  monu- 
ment, so  far  as  our  Free  Church  is  concerned,  is  in  our 
thousand  manses,  a  monument  which  he  himself  reared, 


MEMOIK.  XXXV 

and  in  the  rearing  of  which  he  may  be  truly  said  to  have 
sacrificed  his  health  and  strength.  But  endangered  health 
and  diminished  strength  did  not  quench  the  ardour  of 
his  burning  soul.  Laid  .aside  from  enforced  professional 
labour,  in  pulpit  or  in  parish,  Guthrie  was  still  the  man 
for  men — holding  himself  always  open  to  all  calls  and  ap- 
peals in  the  line  of  Christian  and  catholic  benevolence. 
To  our  own  Church  he  was,  to  the  last,  loyal  and  loving. 
No  one  more  so.  But  he  grew,  as  I  would  desire  to  grow, 
more  and  more  from  year  to  year,  in  sympathy  with  all 
who  love  Jesus  and  hold  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Him.  May 
the  Lord,  in  His  own  good  time,  answer  his  many  prayers 
for  the  repairing  of  all  breaches  in  Zion,  and  send  to  the 
divided  and  distracted  Christian  family  all  over  the  world 
that  peace  and  living  unity  on  which  his  large  heart  was 
set. 


THE    FUNERAL. 

THE  mortal  remains  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Guthrie  were  laid 
in  the  grave  on  the  Friday  following  his  decease,  in  pres- 
ence of  the  greatest  funeral  gathering  seen  in  Edinburgh 
since  the  death  of  Sir  James  Simpson.  The  place  of  inter- 
ment was  the  family  burying-ground,  next  the  south  wall 
of  the  Grange  Cemetery,  and  directly  opposite  the  broad 
walk  which  passes  through  the  middle  of  the  cemetery,  by 
the  tunnel  below  the  terrace.  A  simple  slab  of  stone  let 


XXX  VI  MEMOIR. 

into  the  wall  bears  the  inscription,  "  Bury  ing-Ground  of 
Rev.  Thomas  Guthrie,  D.D.,"  and  flowers  mark  the  graves 
of  his  youngest  son,  John,  and  of  a  grandchild.  The  wall 
around  the  stone  is  thickly  covered  with  ivy,  and  at  each 
side  of  the  ground,  which  is  of  more  than  ordinary  extent, 
there  is  a  weeping  ash.  It  is  the  sunny  side  of  the  pleas- 
ant grounds  of  the  Grange,  and  it  is  natural  to  suppose 
that,  with  his  keen  sense  of  the  beautiful  in  nature,  and  of 
what  is  becoming  in  Christian  burial,  the  good  man  whose 
loss  we  mourn  selected  a  spot  where  grassy  turf  should 
cover  his  dust,  and 

"Many  an  evening  sun  shine  sweetly  o'er  his  grave." 

From  an  early  hour  in  the  forenoon  visitors  began  to 
enter  the  Grange  Cemetery,  and  made  their  way  to  the 
open  grave,  where  several  constables  were  stationed  as  a 
guard.  For  more  than  an  hour  before  the  time  fixed  for 
the  funeral  the  various  approaches  to  the  cemetery  were 
thronged  with  citizens  wending  their  way  to  the  grounds. 

It  was  a  choice  winter  day.  The  sun  was  shining  bright- 
ly and  even  warmly  through  a  clear,  blue,  frosty  sky,  flecked 
with  fleecy  clouds.  It  was  such  a  day  as  one  could  have 
wished  and  almost  expected  for  the  funeral  of  a  man  of 
sunny  nature,  and  whose  name  will  ever  be  associated  with 
sunny  memories.  As  the  hour  approached,  the  thousands 
who  covered  f.ne  terrace  walk  eagerly  directed  their  gaze  to- 
wards the  entrance  gate,  this  being  the  first  point  at  which 
the  intervening  houses  permitted  them  to  see  the  funeral 
train.  Shortly  after  two  o'clock  the  departure  of  the  cortege 
was  signalled  by  the  striking  of  a  bell  at  the  Cemetery 
offices,  and  another  bell,  twenty  minutes  later,  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  first  of  the  procession.  There  were 


MEMOIR.  XXX  VU 

many  moist  eyes  and  half-  suppressed  sighs  as  the  boys  of 
Dr.  Guthrie's  Ragged  School  made  their  appearance,  and 
recalled  so  vividly  to  recollection  who  it  was  that  had 
transformed  these  helpless,  neglected  youths  into  honest, ' 
industrious  and  hopeful  members  of  society.  Nothing 
could  have  spoken  more  eloquently  of  the  nature  and 
completeness  of  this  noble  enterprise  than  the  clean  and 
tidy  and  comfortable  appearance  of  the  scholars,  both 
boys  and  girls.  And  their  demeanour  was  not  less  pleas- 
ing. There  were  no  more  decorous  mourners  than  those 
little  lads  and  lasses,  with  their  spotless  clothing,  black 
cravats  and  mits,  badge  of  black  cloth  on  their  arm,  and 
sobered  expression  of  countenance  as  they  marched  in 
step,  four  deep,  in  front  of  the  procession.  The  discipline 
and  moral  training  must  be  admirable  which  can  produce 
such  results  that  in  so  large  a  company  of  boys  and  girls 
not  a  word  was  spoken,  not  a  movement  was  out  of  place 
or  out  of  keeping  with  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

The  coffin  was  removed  from  the  house  about  twenty 
minutes  past  two,  and  placed  in  a  catafalque  made  spe- 
cially for  the  occasion.  The  catafalque  consisted  of  an 
elegant  stage  mounted  on  wheels,  and  having  ornamental 
pillars  at  each  corner  supporting  a  canopy.  The  edges 
were  finely  carved,  and  it  was  appropriately  ornamented 
with  drapery.  It  was  surmounted  with  two  tiers  of  black 
plumes.  The  coffin,  which  rested  on  the  platform  under- 
neath the  canopy,  was  covered  with  a  black  silk  velvet  pall, 
on  the  top  of  which  were  four  wreaths  made  of  camelias, 
snowdrops,  lilies  of  the  valley,  hyacinths,  and  primulas. 


XXX  VI 11  MUMOlH. 


The  Procession  slowly  moved  out  of  the  Salisbury  Road 
in  the  following  order : — 


Detachment  of  Policemen. 

Boys  and  Girls  of  Original  Ragged  School. 

Edinburgh  Industrial  Brigade  (Directors  and  Boys). 

Kirk-Session  and  Deacons'  Court  of  St.  John's  Free  Church. 

U.  P.  Presbytery  of  Edinburgh  and  Leith. 

Free  Presbytery  of  Edinburgh. 

Professors  and  Students  of  the  New  College. 

Magistrates  and  Town  Council. 

High  Constables. 

Mutes. 


Relatives  and  Mourners. 
Congregation  of  St.  John's  Free  Church. 

General  Public. 
Private    Carriages. 


The  attendance  of  the  ministers  and  elders  of  the  Free 
and  United  Presbyterian  churches  was  large  and  lepre- 
sentative.  A  body  of  the  students  of  the  New  College,  to 
the  number  of  ninety,  also  formed  part  of  the  procession, 
and  were  headed  by  Professors  Davidson,  Smeaton,  Mac- 
gregor,  Rainy,  Blaikie,  and  Duns.  Then  came  the  City 
Officers,  with  draped  halberts  and  the  sword  and  mace, 
which  were  also  enveloped  in  crape.  The  members  of 
the  Town  Council  in  their  robes  of  office,  the  City  Cham- 
berlain and  Depute  City  Clerk,  the  Treasurer,  and  the 
Convener  of  the  Trades  followed ;  and  after  them  the 
Magistrates  and  the  Lord  Provost  in  their  ermine  robes. 
Certainly  this  was  by  far  the  most  striking  portion  of  the 
procession,  and  as  such  came  in  for  a  large  share  of  atten- 
tion. The  High  Constables  came  next,  and  then  the  Fun- 
eral Car,  drawn  by  four  black  horses  and  preceded  by 
four  baton-men  and  two  mutes — the  latter  in  antique  cos- 
tume and  carrying  staves.  The  Pall-Bearers  were  : — Rev 


MEMOIR.  XXXIX 

David  Kelly  Guthrie,  Free  Church  minister  of  Liberton  ; 
Mr.  James  Guthrie,  Agent  of  the  Royal  Bank,  Brechin  ; 
Mr.  Patrick  Guthrie,  of  Messrs.  Dymock  &  Guthrie,  Edin- 
burgh ;  Mr.  Thomas  Guthrie,  of  Quilmes,  near  Buenos 
Ayres ;  Mr.  Charles  John  Guthrie,  student  for  the  Scotch 
bar, — sons  of  the  deceased ;  Rev.  William  Welsh",  of  Moss- 
fennan,  Free  Church  minister  of  Broughton  ;  Mr.  Stephen 
Williamson,  Copley,  Cheshire,  of  Messrs.  Balfour,  William- 
son &  Co.,  Liverpool ;  and  Mr.  David  Gray,  merchant, 
Glasgow  —  sons-in-law;  Rev.  J.  C.  Burns,  Free  Church 
minister,  Kirkliston,  brother-in-law ;  and  Mr.  David  Guth- 
rie, Jun.,  grand-nephew  of  deceased,  representing  his  fa- 
ther, Colonel  Guthrie.  Along  with  the  pall-bearers  walked 
the  following  grand-children  of  Dr.  Guthrie  : — Thomas 
Clement  and  Wm.  Kirk  Guthrie,  and  Archibald  Thomas 
Guthrie ;  Alexander  and  Stephen  Anstruther  Williamson. 
The  carriage  of  the  deceased  followed,  and  then  seven 
mourning  carriages,  in  the  two  first  of  which  were  : — Mrs. 
Welsh,  Miss  Guthrie,  and  Mrs.  Williamson,  daughters;  and 
Mrs.  D.  K.  Guthrie,  Mrs.  James  Guthrie,  Mrs.  Patrick 
Guthrie,  and  Mrs.  Thomas  Guthrie — daughters-in-law  of 
the  deceased ;  and  in  the  remainder  relatives  or  intimate 
friends  who  could  not  easily  walk.  Then  came  a  great 
number  of  the  congregation  of  Free  St.  John's  and  the 
general  public. 

The  procession  was  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  long ; 
and  it  was  computed  that  there  were  over  thirty  thousand 
people  on  the  route.  As  the  funeral-car  proceeded  slowly 
up  the  Grange  Road  the  people  uncovered  to  mark  their 
respect  for  his  remains.  When  it  arrived  at  the  grave,  the 
people  approached  as  near  as  they  could  get,  and  watched 
with  great  interest  the  entombment.  The  coffin  was  re- 
moved from  the  car  and  laid  by  the  side  of  the  grave. 


x  MEMOIR. 

The  ladies  of  the  family  stood  behind  the  chief  mourner. 
Rev.  Professor  Blaikie,  of  the  New  College,  co-editor  with 
the  deceased  of  the  "  Sunday  Magazine,"  offered  up  a 
prayer  most  suitable  to  the  occasion,  and  the  boys  and 
girls  of  the  Original  Ragged  School  sang  the  hymn, 
"  There  is  a  happy  land."  The  coffin,  the  wreaths  hav- 
ing been  placed  on  it  by  the  deceased's  daughters  and 
grandchildren,  and  a  bouquet  by  Mrs.  Dr.  Cumming, 
Ainslie  Place,  was  then  lowered  into  the  grave.  The  in- 
ner coffin  was  of  zinc,  and  the  outer  of  polished  oak.  A 
brass  plate  on  the  lid  bore  the  following  inscription  : — 

THOMAS     CUTHRIE, 

D.  D., 
BORN  JULY  I2TH,  1803. 

DIED   FEBRUARY   24TH,    1873. 

After  the  grave  had  been  closed,  Mr.  Thain,  Superin- 
tendent of  the  Original  Ragged  School,  made  way  for  two 
of  the  children — a  little  girl  and  a  boy — who  placed  a 
wreath  on  the  grave.  It  was  a  most  affecting  incident, 
which  provoked  the  tears  of  many.  The  great  concourse 
of  people  then  gradually  dispersed. 

The  manuscripts  of  the  deceased,  along  with  an  Auto- 
biography, finished  down  to  the  time  of  the  Disruption, 
are  left  to  his  sons — Rev.  David  Kelly  Guthrie  and  Charles 
John  Guthrie — to  be  used  by  them  for  publication,  with 
the  advice  of  his  son-in-law,  Rev.  William  Welsh. 


THE  PARABLES 

READ   IN   THE   LIGHT   OF   THE   PRESENT   DAT. 


I  ONCE  saw  Moffat,  the  South  African  missionary, 
address  a  thousand  children  —  the  most  formidable  con- 
gregation, in  one  sense,  before  which  any  speaker 
could  appear.  The  difficulty,  after  having  aroused 
their  attention,  of  keeping  it  awake,  was  increased  on 
that  occasion  by  two  things.  His  address  extended 
beyond  an  hour,  and  the  time  was  evening,  when  sleep 
is  so  apt  to  fall  on  young  eyes  ;  yet  there  was  not  a 
sleeper  in  the  whole  house.  The  sea  of  young  faces  was 
all  turned  radiant  on  the  orator  ;  he  was  the  centre 
for  two  thousand  eager  glancing  eyes  ;  and  for  more 
than  the  time  usually  occupied  by  a  sermon  he  held  his 
audience  by  the  ears.  It  was  a  great  achievement  : 
and  how  accomplished  V  In  a  very  simple  way.  Suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  word,  and  drawing  on  his  own 
observation  and  experience,  he  told  them  stories,  illus- 
trative of  the  labors  and  purposes,  of  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  a  missionary's  life.  In  giving  this  form 

(7) 


8  INTRODUCTORY. 

to  an  address  which  was  not  childish,  though  suited  to 
children,  he  dexterously  availed  himself  of  one  of  the 
strongest  and  earliest  developed  principles  of  our 
nature.  How  often  have  I  seen  a  restless  boy,  whom 
neither  threats  nor  brihes  could  quiet,  sit  spell-bound 
by  a  nursery  tale !  We  can  all  recollect  the  time 
when  we  sat  listening  to  a  mother's  or  nurse's  stories 
for  long  hours  around  the  winter  hearth.  So  passes 
the  time  with  the  soldier  by  his  watch-fire ;  with  the 
sailor  on  the  lonely  deep  ;  and  so,  when  the  day's  jour- 
ney is  done,  and  tents  are  pitched,  and  they  have  had 
their  evening  meal,  the  Bedouin,  seated  beneath  a 
starry  sky,  on  the  sands  of  the  silent  desert,  will  spend 
half  the  night. 

Now,  parables  are  just  stories ;  they  are  told  for 
instruction  through  means  of  entertainment ;  and  when 
Moffat,  by  anecdotes,  analogies,  and  illustrations, 
sought  to  win  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  and  convey 
truth  into  their  hearts,  as  the  arrow,  by  help  of  its 
feathers,  goes  right  to  the  mark,  he  was  only  copying 
his  Master.  No  addresses  recorded  in  history,  common 
or  sacred,  have  so  much  of  the  parable  character  as 
our  Lord's.  Not  dry  bones,  nor,  though  skillfully  put 
together,  mere  na-ked  skeletons,  they  are  clothed  with 
flesh  and  instinct  with  life.  Man  has  a  threefold 
character  :  he  is  a  being  possessed  of  reason,  of  affec- 
tion, and  of  imagination  ;  he  has  a  head,  a  heart,  and 
a  fancy.  And  now  proving,  and  now  painting,  and 
now  persuading,  our  Lord's  discourses,  unlike  dry  and 
heavy  sermons,  along  with  the  strongest  arguments, 
the  most  pointed  and  powerful  appeals,  are  full  of 


INTRODUCTORY.  9 

stories,  illustrations,  and  comparisons ;  and  by  this 
circumstance,  as  well  as  by  the  divinity  of  his  matter, 
and  the  blended  mildness  and  majesty  of  his  manner, 
we  explain  the  fact  that  Jesus  was  the  prince  of 
preachers, — one  whom  the  common  people  heard  gladly, 
and  who,  in  the  judgment  even  of  his  enemies,  spake 
as  never  man  spake.  The  suitableness  of  this  style  of 
preaching  a  gospel,  intended  as  well  for  the  unlearned 
as  the  learned,  for  converting  the  unlettered  poor, 
whose  souls  are  as  precious  in  God's  sight  as  those  of 
philosophers  or  kings,  is  obvious ;  and  was  well  ex- 
pressed by  an  humble  woman.  Comprehending  best, 
and  most  interested  and  edified  by  those  passages 
of  Scripture  which  present  abstract  truth  under  con- 
crete forms,  and  of  which  we  have  examples  in  such 
comparisons  of  our  Lord's  as  these — the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  like  unto  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  unto  a 
treasure,  unto  a  merchant,  unto  a  householder,  unto  a 
king,  she  said,  "I  like  best  the  likes  of  Scripture." 
These  are  all  parables,  a  form  of  speech  which  our 
Lord  used,  indeed  so  often,  and  to  such  an  extent,  that 
the  evangelists  say,  "  Without  a  parable  spake  he  not 
unto  them."  Occasionally  used  to  conceal  for  a  time 
the  full  meaning  of  the  speaker,  the  chief  and  common 
object  of  a  parable  is  by  the  story  to  win  attention  and 
maintain  it;  to  give  plainness  and  point,  and  therefore 
power,  to  truth.  By  awakening  and  gratifying  the 
imagination,  the  truth  finds  its  way  more  readily  to  the 
heart,  and  makes  a  deeper  impression  on  the  memory. 
The  story,  like  a  float,  keeps  it  from  sinking-  like  a 
nail,  fastens  it  in  the  inind ;  like  the  feathers  of  an 


1 0  INTRODUCTORY. 

arrow,   makes  it  strike,  and,  like   the  barb,  makes  it 
stick. 

While  parables  differ  from  fables,  also  a  very  ancient 
form  of  speech  and  instruction,  in  this,  among  other 
things,  that  fables  use  the  fanciful  machinery  of  beasts 
and  birds  and  trees,  they  are  allied  to  proverbs  and 
allegories.  They  are  stories  of  events  that  may  or 
may  not  have  happened,  but  told  for  the  purpose  of 
conveying  important  truths  in  a  lively  and  striking 
manner.  They  need  not  be  in  words,  they  may  be 
acted ;  and  sometimes  men  inspired  of  God,  have,  in- 
stead of  telling,  acted  them  with  dramatic  power.  Go, 
said  the  Lord  to  Jeremiah,  and  get  a  potter's  earthen 
bottle,  and  take  of  the  ancients  of  the  people,  and  of 
the  ancients  of  the  priests  ;  and  go  forth  unto  the  valley 
of  the  son  of  Hinnoin,  and  proclaim  there  the  words 
that  I  shall  tell  thee.  To  his  summons  they  assemble. 
and  the  preacher  appears — nor  book,  nor  speech  in 
hand,  but  an  earthen  vessel.  He  addresses  them. 
Pointing  across  the  valley  to  Jerusalem,  with  busy 
thousands  in  its  streets,  its  massive  towers  and  noble 
temple  glorious  and  beautiful  beneath  a  southern  sky, 
he  says,  speaking  as  an  ambassador  of  God,  I  will  make 
this  city  desolate  and  an  hissing :  every  one  that  pass- 
eth  thereby  shall  be  astonished  and  hiss  :  I  will  cause 
them  to  eat  the  flesh  of  their  sons  and  the  flesh  of 
their  daughters,  in  the  siege  and  straitness  wherewith 
their  enemies  and  they  that  seek  their  lives  shall  straiten 
them.  He  pauses — raises  his  arm — holds  up  the  pot- 
ter's vessels-dashes  it  on  the  ground ;  and  planting 
his  foot  on  its  shivered  fragments,  he  adds,  Thus  saith 


INTRODUCTORY.  11 

the  Lord  of  Hosts,  Even  so  will  I  break  this  people, 
and  this  city,  as  one  breaketh  a  potter's  vessel.  The 
scene,  the  aspect  of  the  man,  the  beautiful  but  fragile 
vase,  the  crash,  the  shivered  fragments,  these,  all- 
important  aids  to  the  speaker,  were  calculated  to  make 
an  impression  through  the  senses  and  the  fancy,  much 
deeper  than  the  mere  message  could  have  done. 

After  the  same  manner,  we  find  another  acting  his 
parable,  charged  also  with  a  burden  of  coming  sorrows. 
To  the  amazement  of  the  people,  setting  them  all  a 
wondering  what  he  could  mean,  Ezekiel  appears  one 
day  before  them  with  fire,  a  pair  cf  scales,  a  knife,  and 
a  barber's  razor.  These  were  the  heads,  and  doom 
was  the  burden  of  his  sermon.  Sweeping  off,  what  t.n 
Eastern  considers  it  a  shame  to  lose,  his  beard,  and 
the  hair  also  from  his  head,  this  bald  and  beardh  ss 
man  divides  them  into  three  parts ;  weighing  them  in 
the  balance.  One  third  he  burns  in  the  fire  ;  one  third 
he  smites  with  the  knife ;  and  the  remaining  third  ho 
tosses  in  the  air,  scattering  it  on  the  winds  of  heaven. 
Thus — he  himself  representing  the  Jewish  nation  ;  his 
hair  the  people  ;  the  razor  the  Chaldeans  ;  the  cutting 
off  of  the  hair  impending  national  disgrace ;  the  bal- 
ances, God's  righteous  judgment ;  the  part  burnt,  those 
destroyed  in  the  city ;  the  part  smitten  with  the  knife, 
those  slain  when  attempting  to  escape  ;  and  the  re- 
maining part  scattered  to  the  winds,  the  dispersion  of 
the  survivors, — by  this  acted  parable,  and  in  a  way 
most  likely  to  imprint  the  truth  on  their  memories  and 
impress  it  on  their  hearts,  he  foretells  the  desolations 
that  were  impending  over  them. 


12  INTRODUCTORY. 

The  parable  may  assume  a  variety  of  forms,  but  the 
rule  of  interpretation  is  the  same  in  all  cases.  The 
nearer  we  can  make  everything  in  the  parable  apply, 
and  stand  out  as  the  medium  of  an  important  truth,  so 
much  the  better.  But  while  there  may  be  a  meaning 
in  many  of  the  circumstances,  the  clothing,  as  you 
might  say,  of  the  story — and  it  is  our  business  to  find 
that  out — any  attempt  to  regard  everything  as  charged 
with  a  distinct  meaning,  to  find  a  spiritual  truth  in 
each  minute  circumstance,  would  often  land  us  in  the 
regions  of  fancy ;  and  sometimes  in  those  of  error. 
Take,  for  example,  the  parable  of  the  Rich  Man  and 
Lazarus.  Our  Lord  represents  Abraham  and  Dives 
as  talking  to  each  other  across  the  gulf  which  yawns, 
unbridged,  between  heaven  and  hell.  But  are  we  to 
infer  from  this  that  the  intercourse  of  this  world  is 
maintained  in  the  other,  and  that  sights  or  sounds  of 
misery  disturb  the  blessed  rest  of  the  saints  of  God  ? 
Certainly  not.  It  would  be  as  contrary  also  to  all  that 
we  believe,  to  infer  from  the  rich  man  expressing  a 
desire  for  the  welfare  of  the  brothers  he  had  left  behind 
him,  that  virtues  grow  amid  these  fires  which  grew  not  i 
in  the  more  genial  clime  of  earth.  The  lost  are  not 
certainly  improved  by  their  association  with  devils.  If 
the  longer  in  prison  the  greater  criminal,  the  longer  in 
perdition  the  greater  sinner  !  The  dead  fruit  grows 
more  rotten,  and  the  dead  body  more  loathsome  in  its 
change  to  dust ;  even  so  they  that  are  filthy  shall 
not  only  be  filthy,  but  shall  be  filthier  still. 

Take  another  example  in  the  parable  of  the  Ten 
Virgins.     I  road  that  as  a  solemn  warning.     It   calls 


LNTKODUCTOKY.  13 

us  to  be  np  and  doing;  to  hold  ourselves  ready  for  the 
Lord's  coming,  since  we  know  neither  the  day  nor  the 
hour  the  Bridegroom  may  come ;  to  work  while  it  is 
called  to-day,  seeing  how  the  night  cometh  when  no 
man  can  work — when  shops  are  shut,  and  there  is  no 
oil  to  buy.  But  if,  allowing  nothing  for  what  might  be 
called  the  drapery  of  the  story,  we  are  to  find  divine 
truth  set  forth  not  only  in  the  main  but  in  the  minor 
circumstances,  in  every  particular  of  the  parable,  see 
where  this  leads  us  !  There  were  five  wise  and  five 
foolish ;  five  taken  in,  and  five  shut  out,  to  whose  ap- 
plications for  admission,  and  earnest,  long,  loud  knock- 
ing no  answer  came  but,  The  door  is  shut.  The  first 
five  represent  the  saved,  and  the  second  the  lost.  But 
are  we  to  infer,  since  the  number  of  the  wise  and  the 
foolish  virgins  was  equal,  that  the  lost  are  as  numerous 
as  the  saved  ?  This  would  be  a  dreadful,  and,  I  ven- 
ture to  say,  a  very  rash  conclusion.  Nowhere  has 
God  revealed  such  solemn  secrets.  Our  Lord  rebuked 
the  curiosity  that  asked,  Are  there  few  that  be  saved? 
— replying,  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,  for 
many,  I  say  unto  you,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall 
not  be  able.  To  force  such  an  utterance  from  the  par- 
able, to  conclude  because  there  was  an  equal  number  of 
wise  and  foolish  virgins,  that  the  lost  are  as  numerous 
as  the  saved,  has  no  warrant  in  ths  Word  of  God,  and 
is  contrai-y  to  the  ideas  we  fondly  cherish  of  Christ's 
final,  glorious,  and  most  triumphant  conquest.  If,  at 
the  close  of  the  war,  Satan  retains  half  his  kingdom, 
his  head  is  not  crushed,  nor,  if  he  carries  elf  half  his 
forces  from  the  battle-field,  is  he  defeated,  as  I  would 
2 


14  INTRODUCTORY. 

hope  he  shall  be.  We  cling  to  the  hope  that  equal 
numbers  will  not  stand  on  the  right  and  on  the  left 
hand  of  the  Judge,  and  that  the  wail  of  misery,  pierc- 
ing as  it  is,  shall  be  drowned  and  lost  in  the  louder 
burst  of  praise.  It  were  a  sad  account  of  any  govern- 
ment were  half  its  subjects  immured  in  prison ;  and  I 
would  not  believe  without  the  strongest  evidence  that 
under  the  reign  of  a  benign  and  merciful  God,  and 
notwithstanding  the  blood  poured  out  on  Calvary,  half 
the  inhabitants  of  a  world  are  lost  upon  which  the 
Saviour  descended  on  wings  of  love,  while  his  angel 
escort  sang,  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth 
peace,  good  will  toward  men. 

In  explaining  a  parable,  what  we  are  therefore  to 
seek  is  its  great  central  truth,  the  one.  two,  or  three 
grand  lessons  which  the  story  was  told  to  teach — setting 
aside  such  parts  as  are  no  more  than  color,  clothing, 
drapery  thrown  around  it,  to  impart  life  and  interest. 
Keeping  this  in  view,  let  us  now  turn  to  study  this 
woman  at  her  household  work,  and  learn  the  lesson 
that  she  teaches. 


I. 

0f  %  Jtortren. 

"  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  \into  leaven,  which  a  woman  tooh 
and  hid  in  three  measures  of  meal,  till  the  whole  was  leavened." — 
MATTHEW  xiii.  33. 

THE  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  sometimes  used  in  Scrip- 
ture as  equivalent  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  but  it  haa 
not  here  the  wide  meaning  of  that  expression.  There 
are  kingdoms,  our  own  for  instance,  which  embrace  so 
many  different  and  such  distant  countries,  that,  as  ia 
said  and  boasted  of,  the  sun  never  sets  on  them — be- 
fore he  has  set  on  one  province  he  has  risen  on  another. 
But  how  much  greater  the  kingdom  of  God  ?  The  sun 
never  sets  on  it !  The  sun  never  rose  and  shone  but 
on  a  corner  of  it.  Its  provinces  are  not  countries,  nor 
even  continents,  but  worlds.  It  stretches  not  from 
shore  to  shore,  but  from  sun  to  sun,  and  from  star  to 
star.  Its  extent  was  never  surveyed ;  its  inhabitants 
never  numbered ;  its  beginning  never  calculated.  It 
had  no  beginning,  and  it  has  no  bounds.  Its  begin- 
ning is  in  eternity,  and  its  bounds  are  lost  in  illimita- 
ble space.  Over  this  kingdom,  which  includes  heaven 
and  hell,  the  angels  that  kept  and  those  that  lost  their 
first  estate,  all  things  visible  and  invisible,  Jehovah 
reigns— -glorious  in  counsel,  fearful  in  praises,  contin- 

(15) 


16  THE    PARABLES. 

ually  doing  wonders.  Sole  monarch  of  this  empire, 
he  has  made  all  things  for  himself,  yea,  "  he  hath  made 
the  wicked  for  the  day  of  evil." 

It  is  not  of  this,  but  of  the  gospel  kingdom,  or  the 
kingdom  of  grace,  that  the  parable  speaks  ;  and  before 
showing  how  it  is  like  leaven,  we  may  turn  our  atten- 
tion on  some  of  its  peculiar  characteristics. 

Different  and  distinct  from  that  kingdom  of  Jehovah's 
power  and  providence,  which  embraces  all  created 
beings  from  angels  down  to  insects,  this  has  men  alone 
for  its  subjects.  It  does  not  concern  itself,  unless  in- 
directly, with  matter,  but  only  with  mind ;  controlling 
not  the  waves  of  the  sea  or  the  winds  of  heaven,  but 
what  are  more  uncontrollable  than  either,  the  passions 
and  wills  of  men.  Again,  this  kingdom  is  felt,  but 
not  seen ;  "  the  kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  with 
observation:"  it  is  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it;  "My 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,"  said  Jesus  ;  "  if  my  king- 
dom were  of  this  world,  then  would  my  servants  fight:" 
a  spiritual  kingdom,  its  foundations  have  been  laid  in 
the  death  of  its  King,  and  with  a  far  higher  object 
than  any  for  which  mortal  men  are  raised  to  tottering 
thrones,  its  purpose  is  the  salvation  of  lost,  but  precious 
and  immortal  souls. 

See  how  many  and  important  differences  there  are 
between  it  and  any  earthly  kingdom !  There  never 
was  a  man  born  in  it ;  but  many  have  been  born  for  it. 
Its  subjects  are  all  twice  born ;  for  "  except  a  man  be 
born  again,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  Never  in  a  sense  did  an  old  man  enter  its 
gates  ;  for  who  would  enter  here  must  retrace  his  steps 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN,  17 

along  the  path  of  life ;  return  the  way  he  came,  and 
born  again,  become  a  little  child.  Calling  a  little  child 
to  him,  Jesus  set  him  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  said, 
Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Except  ye  be  converted,  and 
become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  There  gold,  for  which  so  many 
here  slave,  and  drudge,  and  scheme,  and  sin,  is  reck- 
oned of  no  more  value  than  common  dust.  They  buy 
and  sell,  indeed ;  buy  the  most  precious  wares,  bread 
of  life,  immortal  beauty,  sinless  purity,  pearls  of  great 
price,  and  crowns  of  eternal  glory  ;  but  then  it  is  with- 
out money — what  is  priceless  is  got  without  price,  got 
for  the  asking :  "  Whatsoever  ye  ask  in  my  name 
believing,  ye  shall  receive."  And  so  far  from  gold 
being  of  any  advantage  here,  it  is  rather  an  incum- 
brance  than  otherwise  :  "It  is  easier,"  said  the  King, 
"  for  a  camel  to  pass  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than 
for  a  rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
Nor  is  that  which  secures  man  great  advantages  here, 
industry,  sobriety,  honor,  honesty,  or  virtue,  any  pass- 
port into  this  kingdom ;  the  worst  are  as  welcome  as 
the  best:  "Whosoever  cometh  unto  me,"  says  the 
King,  "I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  Beggars  whom 
armed  sentinels  would  challenge,  and  servants  turn 
from  the  gates  of  earthly  palaces,  are  here  admitted 
as  freely  as  the  highest  nobles.  See  there,  outside  the 
gate,  the  Pharisee !  while  the  poor,  despised,  detested 
publican,  who  stood  afar  off,  beating  his  breast  in  con- 
scious guilt,  is  invited  in,  and,  going  down  to  his  house 
justified  rather  than  the  other,  sings  with  Hannah, 
"  The  Lord  bringeth  low  and  lifteth  up ;  he  raiseth  up 
2* 


18  THE    PARABLES. 

the  poor  out  of  the  dust,  and  lifteth  up  the  beggar  from 
the  dunghill,  to  set  them  among  princes."  Yes,  this 
is  the  kingdom  for  the  poor  !  In  its  palace  there  are 
more  peasants  to  be  met  than  peers;  many  subjects' 
and  few  kings.  In  your  earthly  kingdoms  the  rich  and 
noble  carry  off  the  lion's  share.  It  is  high-born 
men  and  women  that  fill  high  places,  and  stand  near 
our  Queen's  throne ;  but  this  kingdom  bestows  its  no- 
blest honors  on  the  humble,  the  poor,  the  obscure,  the 
meek,  the  lowly ;  for  "  to  the  poor  the  gospel  is 
preached,"  and  "not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble 
are  called."  More  extraordinary  than  any  of  these 
things,  all  the  ordinary  rules  of  other  kingdoms  are 
reversed  in  this.  Here,  the  way  to  grow  rich  is  to 
become  poor — the  path  to  honor  lies  through  shame — 
to  enjoy  rest  we  must  plunge  into  a  sea  of  troubles — 
peace  is  only  to  be  enjoyed  in  a  state  of  war — who 
would  live  must  die — and  who  would  gain  must  part 
with  all  that  men  hold  most  dear :  Verily,  verily,  says 
the  King,  there  is  no  man  that  leaveth  father,  or 
mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or  houses,  or  lands,  for 
the  kingdom  of  God's  sake,  who  shall  not  receive  mani- 
fold more  in  this  life,  and  in  the  world 'to  come  life 
everlasting.  Blessed  are  they  who  have  been  brought 
into  this  kingdom !  Robed  in  the  white  linen  of 
Christ's  righteousness,  they  shall  be  priests,  and, 
crowned  with  glory,  they  shall  be  kings  to  God. 

In  regard  to  the  leaven  to  which  our  Lord  likens  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  it  may  surprise  some  to  find  that 
which  is  usually  employed  in  a  bad  sense  otherwise  era* 
ployed  here.  I  am  aware  that  leaven  is  often,  and 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN.  19 

in  Jeed  usually,  in  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  an  emblem  of 
sin  ;  and  a  very  suitable  one  it  is,  seeing,  as  is  known 
to  all  who  are  familiar  with  its  action  in  household  or 
other  arts,  that  it  changes  the  natural  properties  of 
those  substances  on  which  it  acts,  breeds  in  liquids  a 
poisonous  gas,  and  applied  to  meal,  for  instance,  swells 
it  up  and  sours  it.  But  to  infer  from  this  that  leaven 
stands  here  for  unsound  doctrine  and  ungodly  practice, 
and  that  the  parable  itself  is  a  prophetic  description  of 
the  corruptions  which  early  crept  into  the  Church  of 
Christ,  and  had  leavened  and  corrupted  the  whole  mass 
of  Christendom  in  the  dark  ages  of  Popery,  were  incon- 
sistent with  the  plain  meaning  of  the  parable ;  and  is 
not  required  by  the  rules  which  should  guide  us  in 
studying  the  Word  of  God.  There  are  other  instances 
in  which  the  sacred  writers  employ  a  figure,  sometimes 
in  a  good  sense,  sometimes  in  a  bad  one.  For  example, 
Satan  is  compared  to  a  lion  ;  and  what  emblem  could 
be  more  appropriate,  if  you  take  into  account  its  cruel 
nature,  its  stealthy  approach,  its  frightful  roar,  its 
terrible  aspect,  its  bloody  jaws,  its  ravenous  appetite, 
and  the  death  that  follows  a  blow  of  its  paw  ?  Yet  if 
the  destroyer  of  souls  is  a  lion,  so  is  their  Saviour ;  he 
is  "  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah."  The  other  most 
common  scriptural  emblem  of  the  devil  is  a  serpent.  It 
was  in  the  form  of  that  reptile  he  stole  into  Eden ; 
and,  with  malice  gleaming  in  its  fiery  eye,  poison  con- 
cealed in  its  crooked  fangs,  fascination  in  its  gaze, 
death  in  its  spring ;  and  this  peculiar  habit,  that  while 
other  creatures  usually  content  themselves  with  a  por- 
tion of  their  prey,  the  serpent,  crushing  the  bones  and 


20  THE    PARABLES. 

covering  the  body  with  slime,  swallows  it  entire — the 
animal  world  furnishes  no  creature  that  represents  so 
well  the  deceiver  and  destroyer  of  souls  as  this  hateful, 
horrid  reptile.  But  who.  on  the  other  hand,  does  not 
know  that  a  serpent  was  employed  as  a  type  of  the 
Redeemer  ?  Referring  to  that  scene  in  the  desert, 
where,  raised  high  upon  a  pole,  the  brazen  serpent 
gleamed  over  the  dying  camp,  and  whosoever  caught 
sight  of  it  revived  and  lived,  our  Lord  says,  As  Moses 
lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  even  so  must  the 
Son  of  man  be  lifted  up,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
him  should  not  perish,  but  have  eternal  life. 

Having  removed  a  difficulty  which  has  staggered 
some  and  set  others  on  a  wrong  track,  we  are  now 
rsady  to  see  in  what  respects  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  like  unto  the  leaven  which  this  woman  takes  and 
hides  in  meal  till  the  whole  is  leavened.  We  may 
understand  our  Lord  as  describing  either  the  influence 
of  the  gospel  on  the  world,  and  its  final  universal  mani- 
festation ;  or  the  influence  and  operation  of  divine 
grace  on  those  in  whose  hearts  the  Spirit  of  God  has 
lodged  it.  The  parable  may  be  applied  either  way ; 
but  we  prefer  the  latter. 

I. 

The  woman  takes  the  leaven  to  lay  it  not  on,  but  in 
the  meal,  where,  working  from  within  outwards,  it 
changes  the  whole  substance  from  the  centre  to  the 
surface.  It  is  through  a  corresponding  change  that 
the  man  goes  to  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  communicates 
his  grace.  It  is  hidden  in  the  heart.  The  change 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN.  21 

begins  there ;  the  outward  reformation  not  preparing 
the  way  for  regeneration,  but  springing  from  it ;  grow- 
ing out  of  it  as  a  tree  grows  out  of  its  seed,  or  a  stream 
flows  out  of  its  spring.  Observe  that  this  view  is  in 
perfect  harmony  with  God's  requirement,  "  Give  me  " 
— not  thy  habits,  or  thy  service,  or  thy  obedience,  but 
"thy  heart,  my  son;"  in  perfect  harmony,  also,  with 
his  promise,  "I  will  take  away  the  stony  heart  out  of 
your  flesh,  and  I  will  give  you  an  heart  of  flesh,  and 
I  will  put  my  Spirit  within  you" — then,  as  following 
such  a  change,  "  I  will  cause  you  to  walk  in  my  statutes, 
and  ye  shall  keep  my  judgments  and  do  them ;"  and  in 
perfect  harmony  also  with  the  remarkable  saying  of  our 
Lord,  "  The  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you  ;"  in  other 
words,  religion  does  not  lie  in  the  denomination  we  be- 
long to,  in  attendance  on  churches  whose  stony  fingers 
point  to  heaven,  in  having  a  pew  in  the  house  of  God, 
or  even  an  altar  in  our  own,  in  professions  of  piety,  or 

even  in  works  of  benevolence.     It  lies  in  the  heart. 

• 

If  it  is  not  there,  it  is  nowhere  ;  these  other  things 
being  but  the  dress  which  may  drape  a  statue,  and  give 
to  a  corpse  the  guise,  or  rather  the  mockery  of  life.  In 
consequence  of  its  being  lodged  in  their  hearts,  true 
Christians,  so  far  from  being  hypocrites,  have  more  of 
the  reality  of  religion  than  of  its  appearance.  They 
are  better  than  they  seem  to  be ;  and  less  resemble 
those  fruits  which,  under  a  painted  skin,  and  soft, 
luscious  pulp,  conceal  a  rough,  hard  stone,  than  those 
within  whose  shell  and  husky  covering  there  are  both 
milk  and  meat,  \\ith  more  religion  in  his  heart  than 
you  would  infer  from  outward  appearances,  or  than  ho 


22  THE    PARABLES. 

is  able  to  carry  out  in  his  daily  life  and  conversation 
but  after  a  long  struggle  with  old  habits,  a  converted 
man  may  be  like  Lazarus,  when,  standing  before  his 
tomb,  still  bound  in  grave-clothes,  he  looked  as  much 
like  a  dead  man  as  a  living.  Even  Paul  himself  said, 
The  good  that  I  would,  I  do  not;  but  the  evil  that  I 
would  not,  that  I  do.  His  heart,  burning  with  love  to 
Christ,  set  on  fire  not  of  hell  but  heaven,  was  better 
than  his  habits ;  his  desires  were  purer  than  his  deeds  ; 
his  aims  were  loftier  than  his  loftiest  attainments.  And 
those  who,  though  it  is  a  confession  of  shortcoming,  can 
say  so  of  themselves,  have  good  reason  to  hope  that  the 
leaven  has  been  hid  in  the  meal.  Their  hearts  have 
received  that  grace  which  works  in  holy  desires  toward 
holy  efforts :  and  which  shall  never  cease  to  work  till, 
extending  its  influence  over  all  their  nature,  the  whole 
is  leavened,  and  they,  however  imperfect  now,  become 
perfect  men  in  Jesus  Christ. 

II. 

Suppose  that  the  woman,  taking  instead  of  leaven,  a 
stone — a  piece  of  granite,  a  common  pebble,  or  even  a 
precious  jewel,  or  any  metal  such  as  gold  or  silver,  or 
any  like  inert  and  inactive  substance,  had  placed  that 
in  the  heart  of  the  meal,  the  meal  had  remained  the 
same ;  changing  neither  to  stone  nor  metal.  But  so 
soon  as  leaven  is  imbedded  in  its  substance,  a  change 
immediately  ensues ;  a  process  of  fermentation  is  set 
a-going,  and,  extending  from  within  outwards,  goes  on 
till  by  a  law  of  nature  the  whole  lump  is  leavened. 
Neither  art  nor  nature  could  supply  a  better  simile  of 


TUB  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN.          23 

the  graoe  of  God  than  this.  An  active  element,  so 
soon  as  it  is  lodged  in  the  heart,  it  begins  to  work ;  nor 
ceases  to  extend  its  holy  influence  over  the  affections 
and  habits,  the  inward  and  outward  character,  till  it 
has  moved  and  changed  the  whole  man,  and  that  con- 
summation is  reached  which  is  to  be  devoutly  wished 
for,  and  which  the  Apostle  prays  for,  in  the  words, 
May  the  very  God  of  peace  sanctify  you  wholly. 

There  are  influences  which  may  powerfully  affect 
without  permanently  changing  us.  There  may  be 
motion,  and  even  violent  emotion,  without  change.  In 
the  valley  where  Ezekiel  stood  with  the  mouldering 
dead  around  him,  there  was  motion — the  bones  were 
shaken.  He  saw  bone  approach  bone,  till,  each  nicely 
fitted  to  the  other,  they  formed  perfect  skeletons  ;  and, 
clothed  with  flesh  and  covered  over  with  skin,  each 
seemed  a  warrior  taking  his  rest,  and  sleeping  on  under 
a  wizard's  spell  till  his  sword  had  rusted  beside  him. 
Still,  in  all  that  was  essential  they  were  unchanged ; 
as  breathless,  lifeless,  dead,  as  when  the  bones  lay 
scattered,  withered,  and  dry  on  that  old  field  of  battle. 
To  borrow  an  illustration  from  familiar  objects — the 
sea  which  reflects  like  a  liquid  mirror  ship  and  boat 
that  lie  sleeping  on  its  placid  bosom,  is  thrown  by  the 
storms  of  heaven  into  the  most  violent  commotion.  Its 
calm  depths  are  stirred,  and  foaming  breakers  beat  its 
shore ;  but  it  is  still  the  salt,  salt  sea.  And  when  the 
wind  falls,  the  storm  blows  past,  and  the  waves  sink  to 
rest,  it  presents  the  same  characters  as  before — the 
tempest  came  and  the  tempest  went,  nor  has  left  one 
trace  behind.  So  it  is,  alas,  too  often  and  too  much 


24  THE    PAKABLES. 

with  the  impressions  of  sermons,  and  sacraments,  and 
revival  seasons. 

All  changes  truly  are  not  from  bad  to  good,  or  from 
good  to  better.  They  may  be  from  good  to  bad,  or  from 
bad  to  worse.  Moisture  dims  the  polished  blade,  and 
turns  its  bright  steel  into  dull,  red  rust ;  fire  changes 
the  sparkling  diamond  into  black  coal  and  gray  ashes ; 
disease  makes  loveliness  loathsome,  and  death  converts 
the  living  form  into  a  mass  of  foul  corruption.  But 
the  peculiarity  of  grace  is  this,  that  like  leaven  it 
changes  whatever  it  is  applied  to  into  its  own  nature. 
For  as  leaven  turns  meal  into  leaven,  so  divine  grace 
imparts  a  gracious  character  to  the  heart ;  and  this  is 
what  I  call  its  assimilating  element.  Yet  let  there  be 
no  mistake.  While  the  grace  of  God  changes  all  who 
are  brought  in  conversion  under  its  influence,  it  does 
not  impart  any  new  power  or  passion,  but  works  by 
giving  to  those  we  already  have  a  holy  bent ;  by  im- 
pressing on  them  a  heavenly  character.  For  example, 
grace  did  not  make  David  a  poet,  or  Paul  an  orator, 
or  John  a  man  of  warm  affections,  or  Peter  a  man  of 
strong  impulses  and  ardent  zeal.  They  were  born  such. 
The  grace  of  God  changes  no  more  the  natural  features 
of  the  mind  than  it  does  those  of  the  body — as  the 
negro  said,  it  gave  him  a  white  heart,  but  it  left  him 
still,  to  use  the  language  of  another,  the  image  of  God 
carved  in  ebony.  Be  the  meal  into  which  that  woman 
hides  the  leaven,  meal  of  wheat  or  meal  of  barley,  it 
will  come  from  her  hands,  from  the  process  of  leavening, 
from  the  fiery  oven,  cakes  of  the  same  grain.  For  it 
is  not  the  substance  but  the  character  of  the  meal  that 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN,  25 

is  changed.  Even  so  with  the  effect  of  grace.  It  did 
not  give  John  his  warm  affections ;  but  it  fixed  them 
on  his  beloved  Master — sanctifying  his  love.  It  did 
not  inspire  Neherniah  with  the  love  of  country  ;  but  it 
made  him  a  holy  patriot.  It  did  not  give  Dorcas  a 
woman's  heart,  her  tender  sympathy  with  suffering; 
but  it  associated  charity  with  piety,  and  made  her  a 
holy  philanthropist.  It  did  not  give  Paul  his  genius, 
his  resistless  logic,  and  noble  oratory ;  but  it  conse- 
crated them  to  the  cause  of  Christ — touching  his  lips 
as  with  a  live  coal  from  the  altar,  it  made  him  such  a 
master  of  holy  eloquence  that  he  swayed  the  multitude 
at  his  will,  humbled  the  pride  of  kings,  and  compelled 
his  very  judges  to  tremble.  It  did  not  give  David  a 
poet's  fire  and  a  poet's  lyre ;  but  it  strung  his  harp 
with  chords  from  heaven,  and  tuned  all  its  strings  to 
the  service  of  religion  and  the  high  praises  of  God.  So 
grace  ever  works !  It  assimilates  a  man  to  the  char- 
acter of  God.  It  does  not  change  the  metal,  but 
stamps  it  with  the  divine  image ;  and  so  assimilates  all 
I  who  have  received  Christ  to  the  nature  of  Christ,  that 
unless  we  have  the  same  mind,  more  or  less  developed, 
in  us  that  was  in  him,  the  Bible  declares  that  we  are 
none  of  his. 

ill. 

It  is  said  of  the  meal  in  which  the  woman  hid  the 
leaven,  that,  "the  whole,"  not  a  portion  of  it,  large  or 
small,  "was  leavened."  The  apostle  brings  out  the 
same  diffusive  character  of  this  element  where  he  says, 
"A  little  leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump."  Even  so, 
3 


26  THE    PAKABLKS. 

teaching  us  not  to  despise  the  day  of  small  things,  a 
little  grace  lodged  in  the  heart  spreads  till  it  sanctify 
the  whole  man.  Some  things  diffuse  themselves  rapidly. 
There  are  deadly  poisons  so  rapid  and  indeed  sudden  in 
their  action  that  the  cup  falls  from  the  suicide's  hand ;  he 
is  a  dead  man  before  he  has  time  to  set  it  down.  To  these 
grace  stands  out  in  striking  contrast,  not  only  because  it 
is  saving,  but  because  it  is  ordinarily  slow  in  bringing  its 
work  to  a  holy  and  blessed  close ;  and  in  that  respect 
grace  and  sin  correspond  well  to  their  figures  of  life 
and  death.  Five  hundred  summers  must  shine  on  an 
oak  ere  it  attain  its  full  maturity ;  and  not  less  than 
twenty  or  thirty  years  spent  in  growth  and  progress 
must  elapse  ere  an  infant  arrives  at  perfect  manhood — 
ere  mind  has  acquired  its  full  power,  and  bones  and 
muscles  their  utmost  strength.  And  besides  the  lapse 
of  so  many  years,  how  much  care  and  watching,  how 
much  meat  and  medicine,  are  needed  to  preserve  our 
life,  and  guard  it  from  the  accidents  and  diseases 
which  are  ever  threatening  its  destruction  !  Yet  this 
work  of  years  it  needs  but  an  instant  of  time,  a  wrong 
step,  a  drop  of  poison,  a  point  of  steel,  a  pellet  of 
lead,  to  undo.  Death  is  perfected  in  a  moment ;  the 
shriek,  the  prayer  may  die  unuttered  on  the  lips.  Look 
at  Adam !  Sin,  a  sudden  as  well  as  subtle  poison, 
shoots  like  lightning  through  his  soul ;  and  he  falls  in 
a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  from  the  state 
of  a  pure  and  happy,  into  that  of  a  sinful,  and  wretch- 
ed, and  lost,  and  ruined  being.  Unless  in  such  rare 
and  extraordinary  cases  as  that  of  the  dying  thief,  what 
a  contrast  to  this  the  progress  of  the  best  in  grace  ! 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN.  27 

Years  have  come  and  gone,  perhaps,  since  we  were  con- 
verted, and  bow  many  Sabbaths  have  we  enjoyed,  how 
many  sermons  have  we  heard,  how  many  prayers  have 
we  offered,  how  many  communions  have  we  attended, 
how  many  providences  have  we  met  to  help  us  on  in 
the  divine  life — goodnesses  that  should  have  led  us 
to  repentance,  and  waves  of  trouble  that  should  have 
lifted  us  higher  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  yet,  alas ! 
how  little  progress  have  we  made,  how  far  are  we  from 
being  perfect  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect !  Have 
we  not  learned,  by  sad  experience,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing so  easy  as  to  commit  sin,  and  nothing  so  difficult  as 
to  keep  out  of  it — even  for  one  hour  to  keep  the  heart 
holy,  and  the  garment  unspotted  of  the  world?  It 
seems  as  natural  for  man  to  fall  into  sin  as  it  is  for 
water  to  sink  to  the  lowest  level,  or  for  a  stone  to  fall 
to  the  earth.  But  to  rise  !  ah,  that  requires  such  sus- 
tained and  continuous  efforts  as  those  by  which  the  lark 
soars  to  the  skies,  through  constant  beating  of  its 
wings.  The  devil  can  make  man  a  sinner;  nor  is  there 
a  poor,  miserable,  mean,  wretched  creature  but  may 
tempt  us  into  sin.  But  it  needs  the  Almighty  God  to 
make  a  man  a  saint.  The  vase,  statue,  beautiful  ma- 
chine which  it  required  the  highest  skill  and  long  hours 
of  thought  and  labor  to  make,  may  be  shattered  by 
the  hands  of  a  madman  or  of  a  child. 

Still,  let  God's  people  thank  him,  and  take  courage. 
Though  grace,  unlike  sin,  and  like  leaven,  is  slow  in 
its  progress,  it  shall  change  the  whole  man  betimes ; 
and  the  motto  which  flashed  in  gold  on  the  High  Priest's 
forehead  shall  be  engraven  on  our  reason,  heart,  and 


28  THE    PAllABLliS. 

fancy ;  on  our  thoughts,  desires,  and  affections ;  on  our 
lips,  and  hands,  and  feet ;  on  our  wealth,  and  power, 
and  time  ;  on  our  body  and  soul — the  whole  man  shall 
be  "  Holiness  to  the  Lord." 

These  three  characters  of  grace  form  three  excellent 
test  of  character,  of  the  genuineness  of  our  religion. 
It  is  internal :  have  we  felt  its  power  within  us,  on  our 
hearts  ?  It  is  assimilating  :  is  it  renewing  us  into  the 
likeness  of  Jesus  Christ,  into  the  image  of  God  ?  It 
is  diffusive :  is  there  a  work  begun  in  us,  and  on  us, 
which  shall  at  length  "sanctify  us  wholly  "  ?  If  not 
so,  we  need  to  begin  at  the  beginning — by  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God  to  be  born  again.  But  if  so,  though  in 
many  respects  defective,  and  having  often  to  confess 
with  Paul,  "  The  good  which  I  would  I  do  not,  and  the 
evil  which  I  would  not,  that  I  do,"  happy  are  we  ! 
Happy  are  the  people  that  are  in  such  a  case,  for  the 
Lord  will  perfect  that  which  concerneth  us — the  whole 
shall  be  leavened. 

Be  it  our  business,  by  earnest  prayer  and  diligence, 
to  hasten  on  such  a  blessed  consummation  ;  and  also 
to  bring  the  grace  that  is  within  us  to  act  as  well  with- 
out as  within  !  No  candle  is  lighted  for  itself:  no  man 
lights  a  candle  to  lock  the  door,  and  leave  it  burning 
in  an  empty  room.  We  are  not  lighted  for  ourselves ; 
nay,  nor  leavened  for  ourselves.  No  man  liveth  for 
himself.  Let  us  be  as  leaven  in  our  families ;  among 
our  friends  and  fellows ;  in  the  neighborhoods  around 
us.  Nor  let  us  rest  till  there  is  not  one  within  the 
sphere  of  our  influence  whom  we  have  not,  through 
God's  blessing,  leavened,  or  attempted  to  leaven,  by 


THE 'PARABLE    OF   THE   LEAVEN. 

our  grace.  Freely  we  have  received ;  freely  give  !  At 
the  fires  of  our  piety  let  others  be  warmed;  at  the  light 
of  our  grace,  let  other  lights  be  kindled.  Let  us  act 
like  leaven  on  the  inert,  dead  mass  around  us — every 
living  Christian  a  centre  from  which  living  influence 
shall  emanate  toward  all  around  him.  Were  we  so, 
how  soon  would  the  dull  mass  begin  to  work,  ferment, 
move,  and  change !  Then  would  it  be  seen,  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  well-being  of  society,  and  the 
happiness  of  many  a  family,  and  the  saving  of  many 
souls,  that  through  the  influence  of  those  who  had  little 
influence,  and  seemed  to  have  none,  as  in  the  case  of  an 
humble  domestic,  or  little  child,  "  a  little  leaven  leav- 
eneth  the  whole  lump." 


II. 

pprsU*  0f  %  ten  iirgins. 

Matthew  xxv.  1 — 13. 

THIS  parable  is  founded  on  a  marriage  scene. 
Though — as,  for  example,  in  wars,  or  in  the  Corinthian 
games — the  Scriptures  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  ap- 
proving of  all  things  which  they  may  employ  as  figures, 
approbation  and  honor  are  bestowed  on  marriage  by 
the  lofty  uses  to  which  the  sacred  writers  turn  it.  With 
prophets  and  apostles  it  shadows  forth  the  holy,  inti- 
mate, eternal  union  which  is  formed  between  God's  be- 
loved Son  and  his  chosen  people.  Those  who  feel  a 
Christian  interest  in  the  purity  and  happiness  of  so- 
ciety, will  not  regard  that  as  a  circumstance  of  no  value. 
Such  discredit  as  the  Popish  Church  throws  on  mar- 
riage, by  representing  it  as  less  holy  and  honorable 
than  celibacy,  and  such  impediments  as  pride  and  am- 
bition throw  in  its  way,  should  be  denounced  by  those 
who,  as  Christian  ministers,  ought  to  be  Christian  mor- 
alists,— preaching  to  the  times.  One  of  their  most 
evil  features  is  the  false  standard  of  income  and  position 
which  it  is  considered  proper  they  who  intend  to  marry 
should  in  the  first  place  secure.  This  has  led  to  the 
(30) 


THE   PARABLE   OF   THE   TEN   VIRGINS.  31 

bitterest  disappointments ;  to  breach  of  vows ;  to  broken 
hearts, — besides  being  the  fruitful  source  of  much  crime, 
and  furnishing  the  licentious  with  an  apology  for  their 
immoralities.  On  this  altar,  human  happiness,  as  well 
as  the  best  interests  of  morality,  are  offered  up  in  cruel 
sacrifice.  A  man's  life,  as  Scripture  saith,  consistech  not 
in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth, — 
a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  is  better  than  a  stalled 
ox,  and  hatred  therewith. 

The  institution  which  forms  the  basis  of  this  parable 
is  one  of  the  two,  belonging  to  innocence  and  Eden, 
which  the  Fall  that  shook  the  world  and  turned  it,  as 
an  earthquake  does  a  city,  into  a  scene  of  ruins,  left 
standing.  These  are  the  Sabbath  and  Marriage — the 
first  forming  the  foundation  on  which  religion,  and  the 
last  that  on  which  the  social  fabric,  stands.  And  in  look- 
ing back  to  the  first  marriage,  I  cannot  but  think  that 
it  was  to  make  its  tie  more  tender  that  God  chose  the 
singular  plan  he  pursued  in  providing  the  man  with  a 
mate.  No  other  way  would  have  occurred  to  our  fancy 
•  >f  making  woman  than  that  of  another  clay  figure, 
modelled  by  God's  hands  in  the  female  form,  and  in- 
spired by  his  breath  with  life.  In  making  her  out  of 
Adam,  and  from  the  part  of  his  body  lying  nearest  to 
the  heart,  while  he  lay  in  the  mysterious  sleep  from 
which  he  woke  to  gaze  on  a  beautiful  form  reposing  by 
his  side,  God  gave  a  peculiar  emphasis  and  power  to 
the  figure  "they  twain  shall  be  one  flesh," — one  in 
sympathy,  in  mind,  in  affections,  and  in  interests ;  noth- 
ing but  death  afterwards  to  divide  them. 

Though    thus   a  sacred,  marriage   was   originally  a 


2  THE    PARABLES. 

simple,  institution.  God  married  the  first  couple  that 
were  husband  and  wife ;  but  though  it  had  the  sanc- 
tion, it  was  not  till  long  ages  afterwards  that  marriage 
was  invested  with  the  ceremonies  of  religion, — and 
priests  were  introduced  on  the  scene.  In  none  of  the 
cases  recorded  in  Scripture  did  the  parties  repair  to  a 
place  of  worship,  or  call  on  a  minister  of  religion  to 
tie  the  nuptial  knot.  Though  such  a  custom  might  be 
proper,  and  did  to  some  extent  prevail  even  among  the 
heathen,  it  derives  no  authority  from  the  Word  of  God ; 
and  may,  as  existing  among  us,  perhaps  be  traced  to 
our  early  connection  with  the  Church  of  Rome.  Ani- 
mated by  that  insatiable  ambition  which,  grasping  at 
all  power,  has  made  her  the  enemy  of  the  liberties  of 
mankind,  she  seized  on  marriage,  and,  exalting  this  in- 
stitution into  a  sacrament,  turned  it  into  a  tool  to  serve 
her  own  selfish  ends.  Having  persuaded  mankind  that 
there  could  be  no  holy  or  valid  union  without  her  sanc- 
tion, she  had  the  thing  she  sought,  the  world  at  her 
feet, — and  there  not  peasants  only,  but  crowned  kings 
humbly  crouched,  soliciting  a  liberty  which  God  had 
already  granted. 

Long  years,  however,  before  this  institution  was  in- 
vested with  religious  forms,  it  had  been  the  custom  to 
celebrate  it  with  festivities, — a  custom  observed  by 
none  more  than  the  Jews.  For  these  joyous  and  festive 
habits  they  had  the  highest  sanction.  Our  Lord  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  to  a  marriage  scene,  and  honored 
it  by  the  performance  of  his  first  miracle ;  and,  though 
we  are  to  set  our  heaits  on  that  world  where  they 
neither  marry  nor  give  in  marriage,  we  should  learn 


THE    PAHAHLK    OF    THE    TEN    VIRGINS.  33 

from  the  story  of  Cana  to  rejoice  with  them  that  do 
rejoice,  as  well  as  to  weep  with  them  that  weep.  It  is 
not  religion  to  turn  away  from  scenes  of  harmless 
inirth  ;  such  as  that  on  which  Jesus  put  the  seal  of 
his  approbation,  and  shed  the  sunshine  of  his  presence. 
It  is  the  last  act  in  the  drama  of  such  ceremonies  as 
were  observed  in  Cana  of  Galilee  that  this  parable  pre- 
sents. The  marriage  has  been  celebrated.  Accom- 
panied by  his  bride,  the  bridegroom  is  about  to  return 
to  his  own  house,  their  future  home.  The  time,  as  is 
still  the  case  in  many  eastern  countries,  is  night ;  and 
the  scene  has  all  the  picturesque  effect  of  a  torchlight 
procession.  While  one  band  of  maidens  accompany  her 
from  her  father's  house,  another  wait  near  the  bride- 
groom's to  welcome  them  home.  The  hours  wear  on  ; 
eyes  peer  through  the  darkness  to  discover  the  gleams, 
and  ears  listen  to  catch .  the  sound  of  the  advancing 
party.  By  and  by,  lights  sparkle  in  the  distance ;  by 
and  by,  at  first  faintly  heard,  shouts  and  songs  break 
the  silence  of  the  night ;  and  now  the  cry  rises,  Behold, 
the  bridegroom  cometh ;  go  ye  out  to  meet  him.  All 
are  roused — sleepers  wakened,  lamps  trimmed,  torches 
made  to  blaze  with  strong  and  lively  flame ;  and  forth 
from  their  places  go,  trooping,  singing,  rejoicing,  the 
train  of  waiting  maidens.  Mingling  with  the  advanc- 
ing crowd,  above  whose  heads  sit  the  bridegroom  and 
his  bride,  in  gorgeous  attire,  their  jewels  flashing  back 
the  gleams  of  lamp  and  torch,  they  pass  into  the  house. 
And  now  the  door  is  shut.  Those  ready  enter  with 
the  bridegroom  ;  such  as  are  unready  are  kept  out, 
»nd  to  their  knocking  get  no  other  answer  but  that 


34  THE   PARABLES. 

of  the  parable,  "  I  know  you  not."     In  considering 
this  parable  let  us  look  at 
i 

THE    BRIDEGROOM. 

He  represents  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  divine 
head  and  loving  husband  of  that  Church  which  is  his 
bride,  "the  Lamb's  wife," — the  union  which  faith  forms 
between  him  and  his  people  being  represented  as  a 
marriage.  It  is  one  of  love  ;  for  though  a  wealthy  mar- 
riage to  the  bride,  it  is  on  her  part  as  well  as  on  his,  one 
of  endearment — We  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us — 
Thy  people  shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power. 
It  is  one  which  grim  death  shall  never  dissolve,  and 
leave  Christ's  Church  a  mourning  AA'idow.  It  is  one 
which  holy  prophets  sung,  and  long  ages  prepared  for. 
It  is  one  which  the  Son,  though  stooping  to  the  lowliest 
object,  entered  into  with  his  Father's  full  consent.  It 
is  one  in  which  heaven  took  a  part,  and  angels  were 
wedding-guests, — their  harps  lending  the  music  and 
their  wings  the  light.  It  is  one  over  which  all  the 
I  hosts  of  heaven  rejoiced  in  the  fullness  of  generous 
love — I  heard,  says  John,  as  it  were  the  voice  of  a 
great  multitude,  and  as  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and 
as  the  voice  of  many  thunderings,  saying  Alleluiah : 
for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth.  Let  us  be  glad 
and  rejoice,  and  give  honor  to  him ;  for  the  marriage 
of  the  Lamb  is  come,  and  his  wife  hath  made  herself 
ready.  May  we  know  the  truth  of  the  words  that  fol- 
low :  Blessed  are  they  which  are  called  unto  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb  ! 

The  story*  of  redeeming  love,  of  this  marriage,  SUT- 


THE   PARABLE    OF   THE   TEN    VIRGINS.  35 

passes  anything  related  in  the  pages  of  the  wildest  ro- 
mances. These  tell  of  a  prince,  who,  enamoured  of  an 
humble  maid,  assumed  a  disguise  ;  and  doffing  his  crown 
and  royal  state  for  the  dress  of  common  life,  left  his 
palace,  travelled  far,  faced  danger,  and  fared  hard,  to 
win  the  heart  of  a  peasant's  daughter,  and  raise  her  from 
obscurity  to  the  position  of  a  queen.  Facts,  as  has 
been  said,  are  more  wonderful  than  fables.  The  journey 
which  our  divine  lover  took,  was  from  heaven  to  earth ; 
to  win  his  bride,  he  exchanged  the  bosom  of  the  eternal 
Father  to  lie,  a  feeble  infant,  on  a  woman's  breast. 
Son  of  God,  he  left  the  throne  of  the  universe,  and  as- 
sumed the  guise  of  humanity,  to  be  cradled  in  a  manger 
and  murdered  on  a  cross. 

Besides,  in  his  people  he  found  a  bride,  deep  in  debt, 
and  paid  it  all ;  under  sentence  of  death,  and  died  in 
her  room ;  a  lost  creature,  clad  in  rags,  and  he  took 
off  his  own  royal  robes  to  cover  her.  To  wash  her,  he 
shed  his  blood;  to  win  her,  he  shed  his  tears;  finding 
her  poor  and  miserable  and  naked,  he  endowed  her  with 
all  his  goods  ;  heir  of  all  things,  everything  that  he 
possessed  as  his  Father's  Son,  she  was  to  enjoy  and 
share  with  himself,  for  are  not  his  people  "  heirs 
of  God  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ,  if  so  be  that 
we  suffer  with  him,  that  we  may  be  also  glorified  to- 
gether." 

Nor  was  his  a  love  of  yesterday — leaving  its  object 
to  fear  that,  mushroom -like,  its  decay  might  be  as  rapid 
as  its  growth.  Older  than  the  hoary  hills,  it  dated 
from  a  period  when  there  were  no  depths,  before  the 
mountains  were  brought  forth: 


36  THE    PARABLES. 

"  He  loved  us  from  the  first  of  time, 
He  loves  us  to  the  last." 

Neither  is  his  love,  like  man's,  capable  of  coldness  of 
of  change  ;  of  diminution  or  decay.  "W  horn  he  loveth, 
ho  loveth  to  the  end.  It  is  stronger  than  death.  Many 
waters  cannot  quench  it ;  and  no  time  can  cool  it.  With 
the  fondness  of  a  first  love,  it  has  the  stability  of  an 
old  one ;  what  trials  does  it  endure  ;  what  ingratitude; 
what  coldness ;  what  contempt !  See  how  he  stands  at 
the  door  knocking,  till  his  head  is  wet  with  dew,  and  his 
locks  with  the  drops  of  night !  nor  counts  that  anything 
if  he  can  but  win  you  at  the  last !  And  never  desisting 
from  pressing  his  suit  on  any  sinner,  lover  of  our  souls, 
he  lingers  by  the  door  till  another  arrive — not  with  a 
suit  but  with  a  summons — Death  himself,  come  to  bear 
it  with  a  hand  that  brooks  no  delay,  and  takes  no 
refusal. 

And  why  should  any  refuse  the  suit  of  him  who 
stands  at  their  door — a  lover,  suitor,  follower,  crying, 
Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock — open  to  me  ? 
Setting  their  affections  on  unworthy  objects,  some  have 
repelled  addresses  which  offered  them  great  wealth  | 
and  high  honors;  better  still,  happiness  as  much  as 
earth  can  afford.  But  none  ever  rejected  such  an  offer 
as  Jesus  makes  you  in  the  offer  of  his  heart  and  hand. 
They  never  had  an  opportunity.  This  the  lover  of 
whom  it  is  said,  He  is  the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand, 
he  is  altogether  lovely,  his  person  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful, his  heart  is  the  kindest,  and  his  bride  shall  be  the 
happiest  and  richest  the  world  ever  saw — her  home  a 
heavenly  palace,  and  her  rank  higher  than  any  queen's. 


TIIK   PARABLE    OF   THE  TEN   VIRGINS.  87 

Happy  are  they  who  have  yielded  to  his  suit ;  and, 
joining  hands  with  him,  have  become  his  in  the  bonds 
of  the  marriage  covenant !  With  the  Lord  for  his 
shepherd,  David  felt  certain  that  he  could  never  want, 
and  went  down  singing  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death ;  but  much  more  may  we  who,  closing  with  Christ's 
offer,  have  given  him  our  hands  and  received  him  into 
our  hearts;  for  how  much  better  does  a  bridegroom 
love  his  blooming  bride  than  shepherd  ever  loved  his 
sheep  ?  "As  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  his  bride, 
so  shall  thy  God  rejoice  over  thee." 

THE   VIRGINS. 

Fair  women  in  the  prime  and  flower  of  life  have 
formed  a  part,  and  not  the  least  ornamental  part,  of 
nuptial  scenes  in  all  ages  of  the  world ;  and  we  have  still 
the  representatives  of  the  virgins  of  this  parable  in  the 
bridesmaids  of  modern  marriages.  Ten  is  their  number 
here.  Why  ten,  and  not  five,  or  twenty  ?  The  key  to 
this  is  similar  to  that  which  explains  the  frequent  re- 
currence of  seven  in  the  Scriptures — seven  golden 
candlesticks,  seven  stars  in  Christ's  hand,  seven  vials, 
seven  plagues,  seven  thunders ;  for  as  the  number 
seven  among  the  Jews  denoted  perfection,  ten  was  the 
number  that  made  a  thing  complete.  A  company  was 
considered  complete  when  there  were  ten  present — we 
have  Elkanah  saying  to  his  wife  to  comfort  her  when 
grieving  because  she  was  childless,  Am  I  not  better  to 
thee  than  ten  sons  ?  And  so  also  we  have  the  angels  of 
God  reckoned  as  ten  times  ten  thousand.  Here,  then, 
blooming  like  a  bed  of  flowers,  are  a  band  of  virgins ; 
4 


38  THE    PARABLES. 

beauty  in  their  looks ;  grace  displayed  in  every  move- 
ment ;  joy  sparkling  in  their  bright  black  eyes,  and 
jewels,  as  they  move  their  lamps  to  and  fro,  sparkling 
in  their  rich,  oriental  attire.  Now  they  are  watching 
through  the  evening  hours  ;  now,  as  the  night  wears  on, 
slumber  falls  on  their  eyelids,  and  stretching  themselves 
out,  one  after  another,  they  drop  off  into  sleep ;  now, 
roused  by  the  cry  of  the  Bridegroom's  coming,  all  start 
to  their  feet  to  arrange  their  attire  and  trim  their 
lamps  ;  now,  some  revive  the  dying  flames  of  oil,  and 
others,  looking  with  dismay  on  empty  vessels,  with 
urgency  and  tears  beseech  their  companions  to  give 
them  oil.  Whom  do  these  represent  ?  Christ  is  the 
bridegroom ;  and  the  bridesmaids,  these  virgins,  the 
foolish  as  well  as  the  wise,  who  are  they  ? 

They  stand  here  the  representatives  of  the  visible 
Church — of  every  church,  and  congregation  of  pro- 
fessing Christians — a  picture  this  which  should  fill 
many  of  us  with  alarm,  and  set  all  to  the  task  of  exam- 
ining the  foundation  of  their  hopes,  in  the  view  of  death 
and  judgment.  The  five  wise  virgins  are  those  who  are 
saved  at  last ;  the  five  foolish  are  those  who  are  lost —  j 
and  lost,  though  many  of  them,  at  one  time,  entertained 
no  doubt  whatever  that  they  should  be  saved.  They 
never  so  much  as  fancied  that  they  would  be  shut  out. 
Such  a  thought  never  damped  their  joy,  nor  disturbed 
their  dreams,  as  they  slept  on  with  dying  lamps  beside 
them.  Most  alarming  picture  and  solemn  warning ! 
These  poor  virgins  do  not,  let  it  be  observed,  represent 
the  openly  godless  ;  the  licentious  ;  the  profane  ;  such 
as  are  manifestly  the  enemies,  and  not  the  friends 


THli    PAUAnLE    OF   THE    TEN    VIRGINS.  39 

of  Christ.  On  the  contrary,  they  could  not  be,  in  any 
plain  sense,  and  were  not  regarded  as,  the  enemies  of 
the  Bridegroom.  They  had  not  treated  his  invitation 
•with  contempt ;  nay,  nor  even  with  plain  neglect.  To 
some  extent  they  had  prepared  for  his  coming ;  and, 
till  the  hour  of  trial  came,  they  seemed  as  well  pre- 
pared to  meet  the  Bridegroom  as  any  of  their  wise 
companions.  I  know  nothing  in  the  Bible  which  more 
than  this  parable,  and  little  which  so  much,  should  so 
strongly  and  so  solemnly  enforce  on  us  the  advice, 
"  Give  all  diligence  to  make  your  calling  and  election 
sure." 

Unhappy  virgins,  to  whom  the  Bridegroom  brings 
such  unlooked-for  woe,  who  gaze  with  eyes  of  horror  on 
your  empty  lamps,  who,  with  such  imploring  looks  and 
unavailing  tears,  entreat  aid  from  your  happy  compan- 
ions, who  rush  out  into  the  darkness  only  to  find  the 
shops  all  closed,  no  oil  to  be  bought  at  so  late  an  hour, 
who  hurry  back,  alas  !  to  find  the  door  shut — you  do 
not  represent  hypocrites;  or  mere  formal  professors — 
such  as  never  felt  anything  of  the  powers  of  the  world 
to  come  ;  as  were  never  alarmed  ;  never  moved  by  the 
truth ;  never  thrown  into  any  anxiety  about  their 
souls'  salvation !  Uuhappy  virgins,  at  one  time  all 
looked  so  promising — you  watched  for  a  while ;  you 
had  lamps  ;  you  had  more,  you  had  oil  in  your  lamps ; 
and,  though  they  did  not  endure,  but,  unfed,  went  out, 
they  burned  for  a  time  ! 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  they  are  lost — teaching  us 
that  it  is  not  enough  to  make  a  fair  appearance;  to 
have  been  the  subjects  once  of  religious  impressions ; 


40  THE    PAltABLES. 

to  have  heard  the  Word  of  God  gladly ;  to  have  felt 
some  anxiety  about  our  souls,  and  to  have  made  some 
movements  in  the  direction  of  salvation.  We  see  in 
them  how  they  \vho  are  near  to  the  kingdom  may  yet 
never  reach  it — wrecked  at  the  harbor-mouth,  within 
hail  of  friends  and  sight  of  home.  If  such  things  are 
done  in  the  green  tree,  what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry  ? 
Let  this  case  induce  every  man  to  prove  his  own 
\vork  by  such  questions  as  these.  Have  I  been  con- 
verted ?  Do  I  know  my  heart  to  be  changed  ?  Have 
I  something  else  to  rest  on  as  evidence  of  being  in 
Christ  than  merely  serious  impressions,  some  occasional 
good  thoughts,  and  fitful  seasons  of  religious  feelings — 
being  well-inclined,  to  use  a  common  expression  ? 
Have  I  oil  not  only  in  the  lamp  but  in  the  vessel  ? — in 
other  words,  have  I  the  grace  of  God  in  my  heart  ? — 
the  love  that  burns,  the  faith  that  endureth  to  the  end  ? 
Not  he  whose  light  is  blown  out  by  every  gust  of 
temptation  ;  nor  he  whose  light,  a  mere  lamp  of  pro- 
fession, fails  amid  the  trials  of  death,  and,  going  out, 
leaves  him  to  darkness  and  despair ;  but  "  he,"  says 
our  Lord,  "  that  shall  endure  unto  the  end,  the  same 
shall  be  saved." 

THE   SLEEP   OF  THE   VIRGINS. 

The  scene  is  one  of  repose — no  sounds  but  measured 
breathing ;  and  by  the  lamps  dimly  burning,  ten  forms 
are  seen  stretched  out  in  various  attitudes,  but  all  locked 
in  the  arms  of  sleep.  How  unlike  sentinels  ;  watchers ; 
persons  waiting  a  Bridegroom's  arrival,  and  ready  at 
any  moment  for  the  call  to  go  forth  to  meet  him — they 


THE    PARABLE    OF    THE   TEN    VIRGINS.  41 

sleep  like  infants  who  have  nothing  to  do  or  care  for; 
or  like  sons  of  toil  at  the  close  of  day,  when  their  day's 
work  is  done. 

Were  even  the  wise  virgins  right  in  yielding  to  sleep 
in  such  circumstances  ?  They  are  not  distinctly 
blamed  ;  and  so  far  as  their  own  safety  was  concerned, 
they  suffered  no  loss  by  it.  With  oil  not  in  their  lamps 
only,  but  in  their  vessels,  being  constantly  prepared 
for  the  Bridegroom's  coming,  they  might  go  to  sleep 
— they  had  at  least  some  excuse  for  sleeping.  In  one 
sense,  their  work  was  done ;  and  so,  in  one  sense,  is 
ours,  if,  having  received  Christ  and  the  grace  of  God 
into  our  hearts,  we  have  made  our  calling  and  election 
sure. 

Firstly,  The  sleep  of  the  wise  virgins  may  indicate 
that  peace  which  they  are  invited  and  entitled  to  enjoy 
who  have  sound,  scriptural,  indubitable  evidence  in 
their  hearts  and  lives,  that  justified  by  faith  they  are 
at  peace  with  God — and  so,  as  Paul  says,  may  "  be 
careful  for  nothing."  If  that  is  all  which  is  meant  by 
their  sleep,  let  those,  whom  they  represent,  sleep  on, 
and  take  their  rest.  The  peace  of  God,  which  passeth 
3,11  understanding,  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through 
Jesus  Christ !  Never  trouble  yourselves  about  death 
— to  you  it  is  gain,  and  cannot  come  too  suddenly,  or 
too  soon.  He  who  lives  in  Christ  is  habitually  pre- 
pared to  die ;  and  what  more  grace  is  needed  for  that 
hour,  will  come  with  it.  "  My  God  shall  supply  all 
your  need." 

But  what  is  wisdom  in  some,  is  folly  in  others.     He 
may  sleep,  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  billows,  whoso 
3* 


42  THE    P  ARABLES. 

vessel  rides  at  anchor  ;  not  he  who  is  drifting  broadside 
on  to  the  roaring  reef.  He  may  sleep  who  pillows  his 
head  on  a  royal  pardon ;  not  he  who,  pallid  and  ex- 
hausted by  the  trial,  a  down-stricken  and  haggard ' 
wretch,  enters  a  cell  which  he  leaves  not  but  for  the  scaf- 
fold, unless  he  obtain  mercy.  These  foolish  virgins  ought 
never  to  have  slept  till,  applying  to  the  proper  quarter, 
and,  if  necessary,  selling  their  very  jewels  for  oil,  they 
stood  prepared  for  the  Bridegroom's  coming.  Nor 
should  any  rest,  seeking  their  souls'  salvation,  having 
it  for  their  first  thought  in  the  morning,  and  their  last 
at  night,  till  they  have  found  it;  and  obtained  a  good 
hope  that  their  sins  have  been  washed  away  in  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb  and  Son  of  God — that  God  himself  is  now 
their  Father,  and  heaven  shall  be  hereafter  their 
blessed  home. 

Secondly,  By  the  sleeping  as  well  of  the  wise  as  of 
the  foolish,  our  Lord  perhaps  teaches,  what  the  best 
will  be  readiest  to  admit,  that  even  God's  people  are 
not  so  watchful  as  they  should  be ;  and  would  be,  were 
they  constantly  to  live  under  the  feeling  that  they 
know  neither  the  day  nor  hour  when  the  Son  of  Man 
cometh.  Should  he  come  this  moment,  who,  in  a  sense, 
are  ready  to  meet  him  ?  Are  your  faith  and  love,  your 
humility  and  holiness  in  as  lively  exercise ;  are  your 
thoughts,  all  your  wishes  and  imaginations,  is  the 
tone  of  your  conversation,  and  the  daily  tenor  of  your 
life,  such  as  you  would  wish  them  to  be  at  the  Bride- 
groom's coming  ?  None  will  say  so.  Therefore,  let 
us  not  sleep ;  nor,  with  so  much  to  do,  act  as  if  we  had 
nothing  to  do.  0,  that  we  could  enter  on  each  day's 


THE   PARABLE   OF   THE   TEN   VIRGINS.  43 

duties,  and  close  each  day's  work,  as  if  we  had  pos- 
sibly seen  our  last  sunrise,  or  last  sunset.  That  were 
not  a  frame  of  mind  inconsistent  with  earthly  en- 
joyments. No !  How  bright  the  sky,  how  sweet  the 
song  of  birds,  how  beautiful  the  wayside  flowers,  how 
full  of  pleasure  everything  to  that  sun-browned  man, 
who  expects,  in  a  few  more  hours,  and  after  long  years 
of  exile,  to  find  himself  at  home. 

Besides,  these  virgins  who  lie  there  asleep,  ignorant 
of  their  wants  and  insensible  to  their  danger,  what 
reasons  do  they  form  for  the  wise  employing  the  pre- 
cious hours  otherwise  than  in  slumber  !  It  might  have 
proved  another  night  to  them  had  the  wise  been  wake- 
ful. Had  they  shaken  up  the  sleepers,  pointed  them 
to  their  empty  vessels,  pleaded  with  them,  and  en- 
treated them,  while  there  was  time,  to  go  and  buy,  the 
lost  might  have  been  saved — the  door  that  shut  them 
out  might  have  shut  them  in.  And  what  true  Chris- 
tian may  not  have  his  hands  full  of  such  Christ-like 
work  ?  Among  our  acquaintances,  the  members,  per- 
haps, of  our  families,  are  there  not  some  who,  careless 
of  their  souls,  and  with  less  appearance  of  religion  than 
these  foolish  virgins,  are  not  prepared  for  a  dying  hour  ? 
They  would,  I  fear,  be  lost,  were  the  Bridegroom  to 
come  now.  May  the  idea  of  that,  of  seeing  them  shut 
out,  hearing  their  plaintive  cries,  seeing  them  stand  at 
the  bar  of  judgment  pictures  of  despair,  wringing  their 
hands  in  hell,  saying  to  themselves,  0,  if  my  father, 
my  mother,  my  brother,  my  sister,  my  friend,  my 
minister  had  only  warned  me,  and  pleaded  with  me,  I 
might  never  have  been  here, — haunt  us,  and  lie  so 


44  THE   PARABLES. 

heavy  on  our  consciences  that  we  shall  find  no  rest  till 
we  have  implored  them  to  seek  a  Saviour, — to  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come.  Thus,  going  to  the  work  in 
dependence  on  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  with  the  tender- 
ness, gentleness,  modesty,  and  humility  of  the  true 
Christian  love,  have  many  who  had  neither  genius  nor 
intellect  been  wise  to  win  souls  to  Christ. 

THE   SUDDENNESS   OF   THE   BRIDEGROOM'S   COMING. 

Every  stroke  which  our  pulse  beats,  strikes  the  knell 
of  a  passing  soul.  There  are  sixty  human  lives  go 
out  every  minute.  But  while  that  is  the  average  num- 
ber, death  each  day,  like  the  tide,  has  its  flow  and  ebb. 
As  harmonizing  with  its  gloomy  scenes,  night  is  the 
most  common  period  for  dying.  She  throws  her  sable 
veil  over  the  appalling  features  of  life's  last  struggle. 
It  is  most  frequently  at  what  is  called  "  the  turn  of  the 
night,"  that,  in  those  rooms  whose  lighted  windows 
contrast  with  darkened  streets,  and  within  whose  walls 
spectators  watch  through  their  tears  the  last  throes 
of  expiring  nature,  the  cry  arises,  Behold,  the  Bride- 
groom cometh !  At  that  hour,  the  cry  rose  in  Egypt 
when  a  startled  nation  woke — and  there  was  not  a 
house  in  which  there  was  not  one  dead.  So  also  often 
on  the  deep — at  midnight,  a  shock,  a  crash;  and 
springing  from  their  beds,  alarmed  passengers  rush  on 
deck  to  see  a  strange  ship  vanishing  like  a  phantom  in 
the  gloom,  and  their  own,  by  a  gaping  wound  that  ad- 
mits the  sea,  sinking  into  a  sudden  grave — there  is  a 
fearful  cry,  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh :  they  wake 
to  hear  ib,  and,  sinking,  hear  no  more.  How  loud  and 


THE   PARABLE    OF   THE  TE3f  VIRGINS.  45 

sudden  that  cry  rose  at  midnight  in  the  mighty  tene- 
ment that  a  year  ago  shook  this  city  by  its  fall,  and 
buried  in  its  ruins  half  a  hundred  corpses.  They  slept, 
nor  woke,  but  to  find  themselves,  to  their  astonishment, 
out  of  this  world,  and  in  another — standing  before 
their  Judge.  How  great  their  surprise  ;  happy  if  not 
how  great  their  dismay  ! 

Nor  does  death  surprise  its  victims  only  in  such  ac- 
cidents. Foreseen  by  others,  how  unexpectedly  does 
he  often  come  to  the  person  most  concerned  !  0,  the 
lying  that  is  practised  beside  many  death-beds ! — all 
engaged  in  a  conspiracy  to  deceive  the  victim.  Verily 
the  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel.  Every- 
thing serious  forbidden  ;  every  hint  of  death  forbidden  ; 
everything  that  could  excite  alarm  forbidden, — a  dying- 
chamber  is  turned  into  a  stage  for  players,  who  wipe 
away  their  tears  before  they  enter,  and  wear  a  lying 
mask  of  ease  and  smiles  and  hopes,  when  hope  herself 
is  dead.  Everybody  sees  the  approach  of  death,  yet 
not  one  is  found  kind  and  honest  enough  to  speak  of 
it.  And  they  talk  of  spring  who  know  that  its  flowers 
shall  bloom  on  the  victim's  grave ;  they  talk  of  jour- 
neys who  know  that  these  poor  feet  are  journeying  on- 
wards to  the  tomb  ;  they  talk  of  dresses  who  know  that 
that  emaciated  form  shall  wear  no  robe  but  the  shroud 
of  death, — the  whole  scene  is  like  that  old  pageant  of 
heathen  worship,  where  they  crowned  the  lambs  with 
garlands,  and  led  them  to  the  slaughter  with  dances 
and  music. 

In  various  ways  it  belongs,  if  I  may  say  so,  to  the 
chapter  of  accidents,  whether  our  death  may  not  be  as 


46  THE    PARABLES. 

sudden  and  unexpected  as  the  coming  of  the  Bride- 
groom here  ;  or  as  the  second  advent  in  which  our  Lord 
shall  appear  with  the  surprise  of  a  thief  in  the  night. 
What  may  happen  any  day,  it  is  certainly  wise  to  be 
prepared  for  every  day.  So  men  make  their  wills ; 
but  so,  alas,  they  don't  mind  their  souls  !  This  ye 
should  have  done,  but  not  have  left  the  other  undone. 
There  is  no  lawyer,  but,  if  you  have  any  property  to 
dispose  of,  and  would  not  have  your  death  the  signal 
for  quarrels  and  lawsuits  and  heart-burnings,  will  advise 
you  to  make  a  settlement,  nor  delay  one  day  to  do  so. 
0,  how  much  more  need  to  make  your  peace  with  God, 
and  prepare  your  eternal  rather  than  your  temporal 
affairs  for  death, — to  make  it  all  up  with  him  who  is 
willing  to  forgive  all,  and  is  now  tarrying  on  the  road 
to  give  you  time  to  get  oil,  and  go  forth  with  joy  to 
the  cry,  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  !  Seek  Christ 
this  day — this  hour — this  moment.  On  its  decision 
may  hang  your  irrevocable,  fixed,  eternal  destiny. 
There  is  hope  for  you  now ;  to-morrow  there  may  be 
none. 


m. 


Luke  XT.  11—32. 

YEARS  ago,  a  traveler  found  himself  in  a  fishing 
town,  where  he  intended  to  pass  the  night.  The  sun 
had  gone  down  on  a  sea  of  glass ;  but,  as  the  night 
fell,  the  wind  began  to  moan,  and  ere  long  a  glaring 
flash  and  rattling  peal  announced  the  storm  that  broke 
out  over  sea  and  land  with  tremendous  fury.  By  and 
bye,  the  voices  of  men  and  women  were  heard  in  the 
streets — mingling  with  the  roar  of  the  tempest.  There 
was  none  to  answer  his  call;  and  surprised  to  find  him- 
self the  only  tenant  of  the  inn,  he  sallied  forth  to  join 
the  crowd,  which,  seized  with  a  terrible  alarm,  and 
consisting  chiefly  of  old  men,  women,  mothers,  and 
little  children,  was  hurrying  to  the  shore.  Their 
fathers,  children,  husbands,  brothers,  had  gone  off  to 
the  fishing ;  and  must  now  be  running  for  the  haven 
through  that  black  night  and  roaring  sea.  There, 
drenched  with  rain  and  the  salt  spray,  clinging  to 
wall,  rock,  and  each  other,  a  crowd  was  gathered,  over 
which,  as  they  stood,  some  looking  seaward,  and  some 
in  silent  prayer  to  heaven,  a  blazing  fire,  kindled  at 


48  THE    PARABLES. 

the  pier-end,  threw  fitful  and  ruddy  gleams.  Another 
light,  gleaming  like  a  star  over  the  waves,  with  which 
it  rose  and  sank,  shone  from  a  life-boat  that  gallant 
hands  had  rowed  out  to  the  tail  of  a  reef,  between 
which  and  the  pier  the  boats  must  run  to  make  the 
harbor's  mouth.  Could  they  live  in  such  a  sea  ?  If 
they  did,  could  they,  guided  by  these  lights,  dash 
through  between  the  shore  on  this  side  and  the  reef  on 
that  ?  Some  hoping,  some  despairing,  but  all  strain- 
ing their  eyes  to  pierce  the  gloom,  two  hours  of 
terrible  suspense  drag  on ;  at  length  a  faint  cheer  is 
raised,  as,  dimly  seen,  the  headmost  boat  is  descried 
running  for  the  harbor.  They  hold  their  breath — 
prayers  are  on  their  lips,  and  lives  are  in  that  helms- 
man's hand.  Lying  on  the  rudder,  he  steers  her 
aright.  She  clears  the  point  of  danger ;  and,  as  the 
forms  of  the  boat's  crew  flash  by  in  the  gleam  of  the 
pine- wood  fire,  there  is  a  scream — a  voice  cries,  "  It  is 
he  !  it  is  he !  he's  safe !" — and  a  woman,  who  had 
caught  sight  of  her  husband  in  the  boat,  fell  fainting, 
for  very  joy,  into  an  old  man's  arms. 

No  wonder  the  stranger,  careless  of  the  tempestt 
mingled  with  that  eager  crowd;  for,  where  such  a 
scene  was  transacting,  and  men's  lives  were  in  the 
greatest  jeopardy,  and  human  bosoms  were  agitated 
by  as  great  a  tumult  as  roared  above  in  the  stormy 
skies,  and  in  the  waves  of  that  foaming  sea,  who  could 
sit  to  enjoy  the  comforts  of  a  bright  fireside  and  cur- 
tained room  ?  Where  men's  lives,  their  souls,  or  great 
interests  are  in  danger,  nothing  is  so  exciting  as  to 
watch  tlie  uncertain  issue ;  or  more  gratifying  than  to 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.        49 

see  life  saved — the  dead  alive,  the  lost  found.  To  such 
stirring  sights  men  and  women  crowd;  to  such  tales 
old  age,  as  well  as  childhood,  turns  with  ear  intent. 

To  this,  in  part,  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal,  with 
its  strong  lights  and  shadows,  with  the  wickedness  of 
the  son,  and  the  father's  kindness,  forgiveness,  and 
touching  joy  over  ono  who  had  been  lost  and  was 
found,  owes  the  universal  interest  with  which  it  is 
read ;  and  the  garland  with  which  men  have  agreed  to 
crown  it  as,  both  for  the  beauty  of  its  story,  and  the 
importance  of  its  truths,  the  finest  of  all  the  parables. 

THE    OCCASION   OF   THE    PARABLE. 

The  sceptre  shall  not  depart  from  Judah,  nor  a  law- 
giver from  between  his  feet,  until  Shiloh  come — so  said 
the  dying  Jacob.  In  accordance  with  that  old  prophecy, 
the  Jewish  State,  at  Christ's  advent,  merged  into  the 
Roman  Empire ;  and  was,  in  consequence,  taxed  to 
maintain  a  foreign,  and  what  was  particularly  offen- 
sive to  the  Jews,  a  heathen  government.  The  parties 
employed  in  raising  this  public  revenue,  and  who  were 
therefore  called  publicans,  were  obnoxious  to  every 
pious  and  patriotic  Jew.  Some  were  heathens ;  and 
such  as  were  not,  being  regarded  as  traitors,  were  held 
in  double  abhorrence — the  very  beggars  refused  their 
charity.  With  few  exceptions,  no  man  of  character 
would  accept  the  office.  Excluded  from  the  ranks  of 
respectable  society,  the  publicans  acquired  the  habits 
of  the  dregs  amongst  which  they  sank  ;  and  associated 
in  fact,  as  well  as  in  common  speech,  with  fallen  women, 
they  became  notorious  for  their  vices. 
6 


60  THE    PAKABLE8. 

Orpheus  is  said  to  have  drawn  savage  beasts  around 
him  by  the  charms  of  music ;  but  our  Lord  so  charmed 
the  world  by  his  preaching,  that  he  drew  to  him,  in 
publicans  and  sinners,  multitudes  more  brutal  than  the  I 
beasts.  Finding  in  him  a  Jew  who  did  not  hate  but 
love  them,  despise  but  pity  them,  trample  them  beneath 
his  feet  but  stooped  to  raise  them,  as  if  each  were  a 
diamond  sparkling  in  the  mud,  they  gathered  in  crowds 
to  hear  him,  and  listen  to  one  who  offered  mercy,  and 
held  out  the  flag  of  hope  even  to  publicans  and  sinners. 
The  Pharisee,  as  he  swept  in  full  sail  to  the  Temple  to 
thank  God  that  he  was  not  as  these,  dreading  their 
touch,  said,  Stand  aside ;  I  am  holier  than  thou  ! 
Not  so  Jesus  Christ — abhorrent  to  his  holy  nature  as 
was  their  impiety  and  impurity  !  Passing  like  a  sun- 
beam through  the  foulest  atmosphere  without  pollution, 
touching  pitch  and  not  denied,  breathing  infected  air 
but  proof  against  contagion,  he  rather  sought  than 
shunned  the  company  of  publicans  and  sinners.  Where 
should  he  be  found,  who  came  to  save,  but  in  the  thick 
of  the  lost  ?  The  selfish,  bigoted,  narrow-minded  Jew, 
who  would  have  none  saved  but  himself,  took  offence 
at  this :  This  man,  they  said,  "  receiveth  sinners  and 
eateth  with  them;"  and,  byway  of  reproach,  they 
sailed  him  "  a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners." 

We  accept  the  picture.  Each  time  heaven's  gate  is 
thrown  open,  he  receiveth  a  sinner :  and  what  keeps 
our  hopes  alive,  and  in  the  solemn  prospect  of  death  or 
judgment  inspires  us  with  any  degree  of  fortitude,  but 
that  we  shall  fall  into  the  hands  of  him  who  is  "  the 
friend  of  sinners  ?"  These  Pharisees  did  not  under- 


THE   PARABLE   OP   T11E  PRODIGAL   SON.  51 

Btand  Jesus  Christ  any  more  than  vice  understands 
virtue,  or  blindness  colors.  Ignorant  of  his  mission, 
they  could  not  comprehend  how  one  who  was  holy 
should  rather  seek  than  avoid  the  lost  and  reprobate, 
And  it  was  to  reveal  the  riches  of  gospel  grace,  God's 
purpose  of  mercy,  and  the  delight  he  has  in  converting 
and  saving  the  greatest  sinners,  that,  with  the  other 
parables  of  this  chapter,  Jesus  told  the  story  of  the 
prodigal. 

Regarding  the  son  here  as  a  type  of  man,  and  the 
father  as  a  type  of  God,  as  he  is  seen  in  his  Son  and  set 
forth  in  the  gospel,  let  us  now  study  these,  the  two 
prominent  figures  in  this  beautiful  parable — beginning 
with  the  Prodigal. 

HIS   CONDUCT. 

In  the  case  of  entailed  estates,  and  in  every  case 
where  a  man  in  our  country  dies  without  leaving  a  will, 
the  heritable  property,  according  to  what  is  called 
feudal  law,  belongs  to  the  eldest  son.  By  the  udal 
law,  as  in  Norway,  the  whole  estate  is  divided  equally 
among  the  members  of  the  family.  The  Jewish  law, 
as  appears  by  the  book  of  Deuteronomy,  held  a  middle 
course  between  these  two.  If  a  man  had  two  sons,  as 
was  the  case  here,  his  goods  were  divided  into  three 
parts — two  of  them  falling  to  the  eldest ;  but  to  his 
effects  as  thus  divided,  the  children  did  not  succeed 
till  the  father  died. 

Tired  waiting  in  his  father's  death  for  an  event 
which  some  sons  have  hastened,  and  impatient  to 
possess  the  means  of  indulging  vices  into  which  we 


52  THE    PAKABLES. 

have  seen  others  leave  a  father's  grave  to  plunge,  care- 
lessly scattering  what  he  had  too  carefully  gathered, 
this  youth  requests,  or  rather  demands,  such  share  of 
the  property  as  would  by  law  fall  to  him  at  the  father's 
death.  Fancy  this  father's  case  yours ;  your  feelings 
at  such  unnatural  and  insolent  conduct !  What  a  shock 
to  him  to  find  that  in  his  son's  heart  all  home  affections 
were  dead,  and  that  he  himself  was  no  longer  regarded 
with  love,  or  his  gray  hairs  with  respect !  The  father's 
presence,  and  the  virtuous  habits  of  a  pious  home, 
have  become  an  irksome  restraint.  This  youth  would 
be  his  own  master — rid  of  his  father's  strict,  pious, 
and  old-fashioned  ways  of  keeping  God's  law  and  day ; 
and  so,  type  of  man  whose  heart  sin  has  estranged 
from  God,  so  soon  as  his  request  is  granted,  he  turns 
his  back  on  home,  and  takes  his  departure  to  a  far 
country. 

The  father  did  not  compel  his  son  to  remain ;  nor 
does  God  us,  or  indeed  any  of  his  creatures.  In  Eden 
he  left  our  first  parents  to  the  freedom  of  their  own 
will.  There  man  sought  to  be  independent  of  God ; 
and  here,  in  the  condition  of  the  prodigal,  we  have  a 
picture  of  the  misery  into  which  sin,  having  estranged 
us  from  our  heavenly  Father,  has  plunged  its  wretched 
votaries.  Devoured  by  harlots,  the  portion  was  soon 
spent.  Want  followed  on  the  heels  of  waste.  Driven 
by  hard  necessity  to  become  a  swineherd);  he  accepted 
the  meanest,  and  to  a  Jew  the  most  degrading  em- 
ployment. A  stranger  in  a  strange  land;  cast  away  as 
an  orange  when  men  have  sucked  it ;  turned  off,  as  I 
have  seen  a  poor,  ragged  wretch,  from  the  drinking- 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.       53 

shop  where  he  had  wasted  his  means ;  neglected  by  old 
associates  ;  laughed  at  as  a  fool  by  many,  and  pitied  by 
none,  he  is  reduced  to  the  direst  extremity.  None 
offering  him  better  fare,  he  tries  to  satisfy  his  hunger 
with  swine-husks.  Type  of  the  sinner  who  departs 
from  God,  and  a  beacon  to  such  as  feel  irksome  under 
the  restraints  of  a  pious  home,  he  seeks  happiness  to 
find  only  misery — ambitious  of  an  unhallowed  liberty, 
he  sinks  into  the  condition  of  the  basest  slave. 

\/      HIS    CHANGE    OF   MIND. 

The  words,  "He  came  to  himself,"  here  employed 
to  describe  the  change  on  the  prodigal,  imply  that  he 
had  been  beside  himself — acting  the  part  of  a  madman 
or  a  fool. 

He  had  the  best  of  fathers ;  and  was  not  he  a  fool 
to  leave  him  ? — as  if  among  these  vile  women  and  boon 
companions  there  were  any  to  love  him  as  his  father 
had  done  !  In  a  home  where  he  had  rings  and  robes, 
servants  to  attend  and  fatted  calves  to  feed  him,  music 
and  dancing,  when  he  was  sad,  to  cheer  him,  was  not 
he  a  fool  to  leave  it  ? — as  if  in  a  far  country,  and  in 
the  haunts  of  vice,  he  would  find  any  place  like  home. 
Wlnn  from  the  last  height  that  commanded  a  view  of 
home,  he  looked  back,  casting  a  lingering  look  behind, 
was  not  he  a  fool,  as  he  suppressed  the  rising  of  old 
affections,  and  the  fancy  that  he  heard  the  voice  of  his 
dead  mother  calling  him  back,  to  dash  the  tear  from 
his  eye,  and  rush,  like  a  war-horse  plunging  into  the 
battle,  headlong  on  a  course  of  dissipation — blind  to  the 
wretchedness  which  ever  terminates  a  career  of  vice  ? 


54  THE    PARABLES. 

"The  path  of  transgressors  is  hard" — to  this,  God, 
using  his  sufferings  for  the  purpose,  was  pleased  to 
open  his  eyes.  Saved  beside  the  swine-troughs,  his 
sorest  misery,  as  in  other  cases,  proved  his  greatest 
mercy.  Left  to  chew  the  cud  of  bitter  reflection,  sit- 
ting where  all  his  bones  through  his  rags  did  look  and 
stare  on  him,  the  past,  with  its  sin  and  folly,  rose  up 
before  his  eyes.  0,  what  a  fool  he  had  been !  He 
was  convinced  of  that ;  and  of  this  also,  that  to  re- 
main there  was  to  die — that  it  were  better  to  return, 
and  cast  himself  on  his  father's  pity  ;  better  to  be  his 
servant  than  the  drudge  and  slave  he  was ;  better  to 
go  and  unburden  his  conscience,  and  acknowledge  his 
wickedness,  though  he  should  die  at  his  father's  feet. 
Feeling  thus,  humbled  and  penitent,  prepared  to  accept 
thankfully  the  smallest  favor,  and  if  he  is  forgiven  to 
be  content  even  with  a  servant's  place,  he  is  now  like 
a  maniac  restored  to  reason  ;  as  is  said,  "  He  came  to 
himself."  Happy  all  of  whom  the  same  can  be  said ! 

Sin  is  represented  here  as  a  madness ;  and  who  acts 
so  contrary  to  sound  reason,  his  own  interests,  and  the 
reality  of  things,  as  a  sinner?  Transport  yourself  to 
such  scenes  as  Hogarth  painted.  Here  is  a  man  in  a 
damp,  dark  cell,  seated  on  a  heap  of  straw,  and 
chained  like  a  wild  beast  to  the  wall.  Does  he  weep  ? 
Is  he  haunted  by  recollections  of  a  happy  home  ?  Does 
he,  as  you  look  through  the  bars,  entreat  you  to  take 
pity  on  him,  to  loose  his  fetters,  and  let  him  go  free? 
No.  He  smiles,  sings,  laughs — the  straw  is  a  thrcne ; 
this  bare  cell,  a  palace ;  these  rough  keepers,  obse- 
quious courtiers ;  and  he  himself,  a  monarch,  the 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SOK.       55 

w 

happiest  of  mortals;  an  object  of  envy,  to  crowned 
kings.  Strange  and  sad  delusion  !  Yet,  is  that  man 
not  more  beside  himself  who,  with  a  soul  formed  for 
the  purest  enjoyments,  delights  in  the  lowest  pleas- 
ures ;  who,  content  with  this  poor  world,  rejects  the 
heaven  in  his  offer ;  who,  surest  sign  of  insanity,  hates 
in  a  heavenly  Father  and  his  Saviour,  those  who  love 
him ;  who,  in  love  with  sin,  hugs  his  chains ;  lying 
under  the  wrath  of  God,  is  merry ;  sings,  and  dances 
on  the  thin  crust  that,  ever  and  anon  breaking  beneath 
the  feet  of  others,  is  all  that  separates  him  from  an 
abyss  of  fire  ?  The  spectacle  recalls  the  words  of 
Solomon :  "  I  said  of  laughter,  it  is  madness ;  of 
mirth,  what  doth  it  ?"  Happy,  such  as,  through  the 
Spirit  of  God,  working  by  whatever  means,  have  come 
to  themselves,  like  the  prodigal ;  and  are  seated,  like 
the  maniac  who  dwelt  among  the  tombs,  at  the  feet 
of  Jesus,  clothed  and  in  their  right  rniml ! 

HIS   DISTRESS. 

I  perish,  he  said,  with  hunger.  Dreadful  fate ! — a 
death  attended  with  pangs  that  have  turned  the  softest 
hearts  to  stone,  and  even  women  into  savage  beasts. 
Maddened  by  hunger,  the  mother  has  forgot  her  suck- 
ing child,  that  she  should  not  have  compassion  on  the 
fruit  of  her  womb.  But  how  much  worse  the  condition 
of  him  of  whom  the  wretched  prodigal  is  a  type !  The 
pleasures  of  sin  can  never  satisfy  the  cravings  of  an 
immortal  soul — far  less  save  it.  The  pangs  of  the 
body,  besides,  come  to  an  end ;  in  the  grave,  that 
poor,  emaciated  form  hungers  no  more,  and  thirsts  no 


56  THE    PARABLES. 

more,  and  shivers  no  more — but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  forever.  "  Their  worm  dieth  not,  and  their 
fire  is  not  quenched."  Awful  words ! — made  more 
awful  by  the  circumstance  that  they  came  from  the 
lips  of  a  tender  and  compassionate  Redeemer;  and 
were  by  him  repeated  thrice — hammered,  if  I  may  say 
so,  into  the  mind,  as  a  nail  is  driven  to  the  head  by 
successive  blows.  .Besides,  if  a  man  is  dying  of 
hunger,  he  feels  it,  or  of  thirst,  he  feels  it ;  but  the 
misery  of  a  sinner  is  not  to  know  his  misery.  Here 
the  type  of  the  prodigal  fails.  I  offer  a  man  the  bread 
of  life,  and  he  tells  me  he  is  not  hungry ;  living  water, 
and  he  puts  aside  the  cup,  saying,  I  am  not  thirsty ;  I 
find  him  stricken  down  with  a  mortal  disease,  but,  on 
bringing  a  physician  to  his  bed-side,  he  bids  us  go,  and 
not  disturb  him,  but  leave  him  to  sleep,  for  he  feels  no 
pain.  Insensibility  to  pain  is  his  worst  symptom,  fatal 
proof  that  mortification  has  begun,  and  that,  unless  it 
can  be  arrested,  all  is  over — you  may  go,  make  his 
coffin,  and  dig  him  a  grave.  But  let  sensibility  return, 
so  that  on  pressure  being  applied  to  the  seat  of  dis- 
ease, he  shrinks  and  shrieks  out  with  pain ;  alarmed 
and  ignorant,  his  attendants  may  imagine  that  now  his 
last  hour  is  come,  but  the  man  of  skill  knows  better. 
There  is  life  in  that  cry — it  proves  that  the  tide  has 
turned,  that  he  shall  live.  Sign  as  blessed,  when 
brought  to  a  sense  of  his  sins,  a  man  feels  himself  per- 
ishing ;  cries  with  Peter,  sinking  among  the  waves  of 
Galilee,  I  perish  ;  with  the  prodigal,  sitting  by  the 
ewine-troughs,  I  perish ;  with  the  jailer,  at  midnight 
in  the  prison,  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?  Have  we 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.       57 

ever  felt  thus  ?  A  most  important  question  !  For 
unless  we  have  felt  ourselves  lost,  we  have  not  yet 
been  saved,  and  have  jet  to  be  converted.  Happy- 
such  as  are  so !  And  as  to  those  who  are  still  far  from 
God,  let  them  arise,  with  the  prodigal,  and  go  to  their 
Father.  He  waits  for  them.  I  promise  them  the 
kindest  welcome — in  his  heart  there  is  love,  and  in  his 
house  "  bread  enough,  and  to  spare." 

HIS    BELIEF. 

I  perish  !  cried  the  poor  prodigal.  Why  should  I  ? 
Behind  yonder  blue  hills,  away  in  the  dim  distance,  lies 
my  father's  house — a  house  of  many  mansions  and  such 
full  supplies  that  the  servants,  even  the  hired  servants, 
have  bread  enough,  and  to  spare. 

Is  there  in  Jesus  Christ  a  provision  as  ample  for  our 
wants — for  the  wants  of  every  humble,  returning,  be- 
lieving penitent  ?  I  might  reply  by  asking,  who  ever 
sat  at  God's  table  without  finding  not  only  bread 
enough,  but  to  spare?  Go  back  to  the  days  when 
Israel  was  in  the  wilderness.  The  camp  is  astir  with 
early  dawn.  Men,  women,  and  little  children  troop 
forth,  in  the  gray  morning,  to  gather  the  manna  that, 
type  of  the  blessings  of  salvation,  has  dropped  from 
bountiful  skies  on  the  desert  sands.  And,  when  these 
millions  are  supplied,  there  is  bread  to  spare,  more 
meat  than  mouths — the  sun,  shooting  up,  shines  on  the 
gleanings  of  the  harvest,  as  on  the  hoar-frost  of  a 
grassy  lawn.  Or  look  at  another  feast,  where  five 
thousand  guests  are  met  on  a  mountain-side,  with  its 
green  sward  for  their  parpet,  the  azure  sky  for  a 


58  THE    PARABLES. 

canopy,  the  twelve  apostles  for  attendants,  and  Jesus 
Christ  for  their  host,  and  master  of  the  feast !  In 
three  loaves  and  some  small  fishes,  the  provision  does 
not  look  Godlike — the  counterpart  of  the  desert's  daily 
banquet.  The  disciples  are  ashamed ;  the  guests  as- 
tonished. But  our  Lord  stands  up  unabashed,  and  calm 
in  conscious  power,  up  to  the  blue  heavens  he  turns 
his  eyes ;  and,  his  voice  sounding  clear  over  silent 
thousands,  he  asks  a  blessing  on  the  scanty  meal. 
Again  there  is  bread  enough,  and  to  spare — and  these 
few  loaves  and  fishes,  •  after  feeding  five  thousand 
hungry  guests,  fill  twelve  baskets  with  their  frag- 
ments. 

In  their  divine  fullness,  the  desert  manna,  the  moun- 
tain fare,  were  substantial  symbols  of  the  mercy, 
pardon,  peace,  holiness,  and  happiness  stored  up  in 
Christ.  Yes.  We  also  can  say,  there  is  enough  and 
to  spare — for  my  needs,  grace  enough ;  for  my  sorrows, 
comfort  enough ;  for  my  nakedness,  raiment  enough, 
and  to  spare ;  in  that  fountain  filled  from  Immanuers 
veins,  blood  enough  to  wash  away  my  sins,  and  the 
sins  of  the  whole  world,  would  the  world  come  to  Jesus 
—  but  listen  to  the  voice  of  babes,  as  they  sweetly 
sing— 

"  Come  to  Jesus,  come  to  Jesus  ; 
He  will  save  you,  he  will  save  you 
Just  now. 

"O  believe  him,  0  believe  him, 

O  believe  him,  0  believe  him, 

Jvwt  now." 


THE   PARABLE    OF   THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  f>9 


HIS    RESOLUTION. 

I  will  arise,  said  the  prodigal,  and  go  to  my  father, 
and  say  unto  him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  before  thee  !  He  might  well  say  so.  I  can  detect 
in  him  no  redeeming  trait  but  one.  When  he  had 
brought  himself  to  poverty,  he  had — the  fruit  of  early 
training — too  much  honor  to  beg,  and  too  much  honesty 
to  steal,  and  independence  enough  to  be  willing  to  earn 
his  own  bread  by  stooping  to  the  humblest  employment. 
Better  a  hard  bed,  humble  fare,  and  rags  that  are  our 
own,  than  to  live  preying  on  others,  or  shining  with 
borrowed  splendor ! 

View  it,  however,  in  what  light  you  may,  his  conduct 
had  been  atrociously  bad.  He  preferred  the  company 
of  harlots  to  his  father's  society,  and  songs  of  lewd 
revelry  to  the  melody  of  his  father's  worship ;  a  thorn 
in  the  old  man's  side,  he  had  well  nigh  broken  his  lov- 
ing heart,  and  brought  down  his  gray  hairs  with  sorrow 
to  the  grave.  There  are  more  dreadful  sights  than 
that  which  filled  Jacob  with  horror  when,  spreading 
out  the  blood-stained  garment,  Joseph's  brothers  said, 
Is  this  thy  son's  coat,  or  no?  A  dissipated  son  is  a 
greater  trial  than  a  dead  one ;  and  more  bitter  the 
tears  shed  over  the  wreck  of  such  an  one's  character 
than  those  which  bedew  the  coffin  where  his  dead 
brother  lies.  Such  were  the  tears  this  father  shed,  as 
with  many  a  bitter  thought  and  agonizing  prayer  he 
followed  the  wanderer,  whose  name  he  never  mentioned 
but  in  secret  to  his  God. 

Remove  the  prodigal,  and  setting  Conscience  on  the 


60  THE    PARABLES. 

bench,  let  us  take  his  place  !  As  sinners  against  our 
heavenly  Father,  who  is  not  as  bad  as  he  ?  Be  not 
offended,  or  mistake  my  meaning !  We  may  never 
have  proved  thorns  in  a  father's  flesh,  cost  his  eye  one 
tear,  or  a  mother's  heart  a  groan — giving  them  occa- 
sion to  wish  that,  lifted  from  a  cradle  to  a  coffin,  we 
had  been  buried  in  an  early  grave.  Still,  no  prodigal 
ever  sinned  against  an  earthly,  as  we  have  done  against 
our  heavenly  Father. 

I  can  measure  parental  love — how  broad,  and  long, 
and  strong,  and  deep  it  is.  It  is  a  sea — a  deep  sea, 
which  mothers  and  fathers  only  can  fathom.  But 
the  love  displayed  on  yonder  hill  and  bloody  cross 
where  God's  own  Son  is  perishing  for  us,  nor  man  nor 
angel  has  a  line  to  measure.  The  circumference  of 
the  earth,  the  altitude  of  the  sun,  the  distance  of  the 
planets — these  have  been  determined ;  but  the  height, 
depth,  breadth,  and  length  of  the  love  of  God  passeth 
knowledge.  Such  is  the  Father  against  whom  all  of 
us  have  sinned,  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times ! 
Walk  the  shore  when  ocean  sleeps  in  the  summer  calm, 
or,  lashed  into  fury  by  the  winter  tempest,  is  thunder- I 
ing  on  her  sands ;  and  when  you  have  numbered  the 
drops  of  her  waves,  the  sands  on  her  sounding  beach, 
you  have  numbered  God's  mercies  and  your  own  sins. 
Well,  therefore,  may  we  go  to  him  with  the  contrition 
of  the  prodigal  in  our  hearts,  and  his  confession  on  our 
lips — Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  in  thy 
sight.  The  Spirit  of  God  helping  us  thus  to  go  to 
God,  be  assured  that  the  father,  who,  seeing  his  son 
afar  off,  ran  to  meet  him,  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed 


THU    PA  It  ABLE   OF   THE    PRODIGAL   SON.  61 

him,  was  but  an  image  of  Him,  who,  not  sparing  his 
own  Son,  but  giving  him  up  to  death,  that  we  might 
live,  invites  and  now  waits  your  coming. 

THE    FATHER. 

The  representations  of  God  the  Father  in  the  most 
splendid  paintings  of  the  ancient  masters  are  worse 
than  in  bad  taste.  His  Son  assumed  the  human  form ; 
and  far  short  as  the  highest  art  comes  of  expressing 
the  love  and  mildness  and  majesty  that  beamed  in  the 
face  of  Jesus,  we  are  not  offended  by  its  efforts. 
Though  they  may  not  satisfy,  they  do  not  shock  us. 
But  to  set  forth  the  invisible  God,  in  the  character  of 
the  "Ancient  of  Days"  as  an  old  man,  or  even  in  the 
noblest  aspects  of  humanity,  is  an  irreverence — offen- 
sive and  revolting. 

Yet  there  have  been  representations  of  our  heavenly 
Father  more  revolting.  He  has  suffered  less  injustice 
from  painters  than  from  preachers.  Thundering  out 
the  terrors  of  the  law,  armed  with  bolts  of  vengeance, 
and  scowling  down  from  pulpits,  they  have  stood  there 
as  unlike  as  possible  to  him  who  wept  over  Jerusalem, 
and  when  he  saw  the  multitudes  had  compassion  on 
them.  By  representing  God  in  dark  and  gloomy 
colors,  with  an  expression  on  his  countenance  of  stern 
severity,  and  as  more  prone  to  punish  than  to  pardon, 
the  preacher's  offence  is  greater  than  the  painter's. 
He  may  quench  a  sinner's  hopes,  extinguish  the  light 
that  is  dawning  on  a  darkened  soul,  and  repel  a  poor 
prodigal  whose  steps  are  turning  homeward  to  his 
father's  house.  A  physician  who  kills  the  patient  he 
6 


62  THE    PARABLB8. 

should  have  cured,  such  a  man  is  practically  the  enemy 
of  souls ;  to  use  Paul's  words,  he  destroys  him  for 
whom  Christ  died. 

To  such  false  and  forbidding  representations  of  the 
Father,  what  a  contrast  is  the  beautiful,  most  touching, 
affecting,  winning  portrait  which  we  have  here,  from 
one  who  knows  him  well — from  the  hand  of  his  own 
Son.  This  picture  might  kindle  hope  in  the  bosom  of 
despair.  Some  have  been  afraid  to  present  God  in 
such  a  gracious  light,  lest  men,  taking  encouragement 
to  plunge  headlong  into  sin,  should,  like  this  prodigal, 
depart  from  the  living  God.  Depart  from  the  living 
God  ?  Ah,  that  is  not  to  do !  Like  lost  sheep  we 
have  all  gone  astray — all  departed  from  him.  But  for 
one  person  who,  abusing  the  grace  of  God,  takes  occa- 
sion from  this  parable  to  go  on  in  sin,  with  the  inten- 
tion, when  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  of  returning 
to  the  arms  of  an  indulgent  Father,  thousands  have 
been  saved  by  it  from  sinking  into  despair,  and  plung- 
ing into  deeper  guilt.  Inspiring  them  with  hope,  it 
has  raised  many  a  poor  wretch  from  the  swine-troughs, 
and  brought  them  home.  Followers  of  the  prodigal,  I 
they  have  gone  in  to  sit  down  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven — the  angels  who  rejoiced  over  them,  now  re- 
joicing  with  them.  In  contemplating  this  picture,  see 

HOW   THE   FATHER   RECEIVED   HIS    SON. 

When  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  it  is  said,  his 
lather  saw  him.  How  did  that  happen  ?  I  knew  a 
sailor's  widow  who  had  parted  with  her  husband  after 
Borne  brief,  bright  days  of  marriage.  He  went  to  sea 


TIIK    PAKABLE    OF    TIIK    PRODIGAL,    SON.  63 

and  never  carne  back;  his  ship,  probably  foundering 
with  all  her  crew,  was  never  more  heard  of.  When  the 
time  expired  for  her  return,  but  no  ship  came,  this 
woman  would  repair  to  a  rocky  headland,  and,  looking 
out,  watch  every  sail  on  the  wide  ocean  in  the  hope,  as 
some  ever  and  anon  made  for  the  harbor,  that  each 
was  his — bringing  the  lost  one  home.  And  at  night, 
on  her  lone  bed,  she  used  to  lie  awake,  listening  to  the 
footsteps  of  belated  travellers,  fancying  that  she  re- 
cognized his  step — but  only,  as  the  sound  passed  her 
door,  to  weep  over  herjlisappointrnent ;  and  long  after 
hope  had  died  in  the  breasts  of  others,  on  rocky  cliff 
or  lonely  bed  she  waited  his  coming  who  never,  never 
came  home. 

Such  love,  I  can  fancy,  often  led  this  father's  steps 
to  some  rising  ground,  where  others  knowing  his  pur- 
pose but  appearing  not  to  notice  him,  he  repaired ;  and, 
with  a  heart  yearning  for  his  son,  turned  his  eyes  in 
the  direction  the  prodigal  went  off,  hoping  to  see  him 
return.  One  day  when  on  his  watch-post,  he  descries 
a  new  object  in  the  distance.  He  watches  it.  It 
moves ;  it  advances ;  it  is  not  a  beast,  prowling  lion, 
or  hungry  wolf;  it  is  a  man  ;  it  may  be  his  son.  His 
heart  beats  quick.  One  long,  earnest,  steadfast  gaze, 
and,  joy  of  joys,  happy  hour,  often  prayed  for  and 
come  at  last,  the  keen  eye  of  love  recognizes  it — it  is 
the  prodigal  come  back  !  Painfully,  for  he  was  foot- 
sore and  weary ;  slowly,  for  he  bent  under  a  load  of 
guilt ;  sadly,  for  the  scene  around  reminded  him  of  de* 
parted  joys  and  blighted  innocence,  his  mother  moulder- 
ing in  her  grave,  and  his  father  with  gray  hairs,  he 


64  THE    PARABLES. 

had  almost,  perhaps,  brought  down  to  his  ;  tremblingly, 
for  he  was  in  doubt  of  his  reception — with  head  hung 
down,  and  slow,  halting,  hesitating  step,  the  prodigal 
conies  on.  Like  one  agitated  by  contending  emotions, 
uncertain  how  to  act,  with  what  measure  of  indulgence 
to  temper  severity,  does  the  father  wait  his  son's  ap- 
proach ?  No.  He  does  not  stand  on  his  dignity ;  nor 
say,  Let  him  make  the  first  advances,  and  ask  forgive- 
ness. His  one  thought  is,  This  is  my  son,  my  poor 
son  ;  his  one  feeling  a  gush  of  love  ;  his  only  impulse 
to  throw  his  arms  around  his  child,  and  clasp  him  to  a 
bosom  that  has  never  ceased  to  love  and  hope  for  his 
return.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  the  wanderer  is  recog- 
nized, on  flying  feet  the  old  man  runs  to  meet  him ; 
and  ere  the  son  has  time  to  speak  a  word,  the  father 
has  him  in  his  arms,  presses  him  to  his  bosom,  and, 
covering  his  cheek  with  passionate  kisses,  lifts  up  his 
voice  and  weeps  for  joy. 

And  this  is  God !  the  God  whom  we  preach,  as  he  is 
drawn  by  the  hand  and  seen  in  the  face  of  Him  whom  he 
sent  to  seek  and  save  us,  to  bring  us  back,  to  open  a 
way  of  reconciliation — the  God  whose  Spirit  inspires 
us  with  our  first  feeble  desires  to  return — the  God  who, 
unwilling  that  any  should  perish,  invites  and  waits  our 
coming.  "  Therefore,"  like  that  father,  often  looking 
out  for  his  son,  "  will  the  Lord  wait,  that  he  may  be 
gracious  unto  you,  and  therefore,"  as  was  fulfilled  by 
Jesus  on  his  cross,  "will  he  be  exalted,  that  he  may 
have  mercy  upon  you.  Blessed  are  all  they  that  wait 
for  him :  The  people  shall  dwell  in  Zion ;  thou  shalt 
weep  no  more.  He  will  be  very  gracious  unto  thee  at 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SON".       65 

the  voice  of  thy  cry :  when  he  shall  hear  it,  he  will 
answer  thee." 

HOW  HIS  FATHER  TREATED  THE  PRODIGAL. 

"  The  king  kissed  Absalom" — an  act  that  here  as 
there  expressed  more  than  mere  affection.  As  in 
Da.vid's  palace,  where  Absalom  was  brought  back  after 
years  of  banishment,  and  his  crimes  were  forgiven  by 
a  father  who,  all  the  time  his  face  was  turned  from  his 
wicked  son,  had,  as  Joab  perceived  and  the  Bible  says, 
his  heart  toward  him,  the  kiss  here  is  a  sign  of  recon- 
ciliation— a  pledge  that  the  past  is  all  forgiven.  For- 
given, but  deeply  penitent ;  sorrowful,  yet  rejoicing  ; 
happy  with  his  father,  but  more  than  ever  vexed  with 
himself  that  he  should  have  wronged  and  injured  him, 
the  prodigal  is  conducted  home. .  The  tidings  spread 
like  wild-fire  ;  the  house  is  moved ;  the  servants  hurry 
to  the  scene ;  and  the  joyful  father  issues  orders  that 
teach  them,  and  reassure  his  son,  that  the  long-lesion 
is  to  be  reinstated  in  all  the  privileges  which  his  crimji- 
had  forfeited. 

Bring  forth  the  fairest  robe  and  put  it  on  him,  say  a 
the  father.  It  is  done ;  and,  the  rags  of  the  swine-herd 
stript  off,  the  best  robe  in  the  house  is  thrown  over  his 
naked  shoulders,  and  flows  in  rich  beauty  to  his  bleed- 
ing feet ;  and  there  now  he  stands — a  beautiful  type 
of  the  investiture  of  a  sinner  in  the  righteousness  and 
imputed  merits  of  the  Saviour — that  best  robe  in  God's 
own  house,  a  garment 

"  Fairer  than  ever  angel  wore." 


66  THE    PARABLES. 

Put  a  ring,  says  the  father  next,  on  his  finger.  And 
what  to  him  was  an  unexpected  honor,  is  to  us,  since 
rings  were  used  of  old  as  seals,  a  type  of  those  graces 
whereby  the  Holy  Spirit  seals  believers  unto  the  day 
of  redemption.  That  ring,  as  the  diamond  on  its 
golden  hoop  flashes  with  many  colors,  may  have  other 
meanings  ;  signifying  here  the  espousals  between  Christ 
and  his  Church,  it  may  be  the  token  of  her  marriage, 
the  passport  of  those  who  are  blessed  to  go  in  to  the 
marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb.  Put  shoes  on  his  feet, 
says  the  father  next, — a  command  that  indicates  more 
than  a  tender  regard  for  him,  whose  bare,  bleeding 
feet  touch  his  father's  heart.  In  these  days,  the 
servants  and  slaves  wore  no  shoes,  and  were  thus  dis- 
tinguished from  the  members  of  the  family.  The 
naked  foot  was  a  sign  of  servitude.  This  order,  meant 
for  more  than  his  son's  comfort  and  a  covering  to 
those  wayworn  feet,  was  therefore  tantamount  to  a 
declaration  from  the  father's  lips  that  the  prodigal 
was  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  servant,  but  as  a  son ; 
that  to  him  belonged  all  the  privileges  and  posses- 
sions of  sonship ;  that  he  who  had  never  lost  his  place 
in  the  father's  heart,  was  now  to  resume  it  at  his  table 
and  in  his  house. 

Nor  is  this  all — "Kill  the  fatted  calf,  and  let  us 
eat  and  be  merry :  for  this  my  son  was  dead  and  is 
alive  again;  he  was  lost,  and  is  found."  He  shall 
be  feasted.  As  these  hollow  eyes  and  sunken  cheeks 
and  wasted  form  bear  witness,  he  has  starved  long ; 
but  he  shall  be  filled  now.  So  the  board  is  spread, 
the  wine-cup  circles,  joy  abounds,  pleasure  beams 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PEODIGAL  SON.       67 

from  every  face,  music  shakes  the  air,  and  dancers* 
feet  the  floor ;  and  there  is  more  joy  in  that  house 
over  the  lost  one  than  over  the  one  that  was  never 
lost.  Poor  prodigal !  he  needed  it — "  Give  strong 
drink  unto  him  that  is  ready  to  perish,  and  wine 
unto  those  that  be  of  heavy  hearts."  Thus  some  of 
the  greatest  sinners,  on  being  converted,  have  ex- 
perienced a  joy  and  peace  and  sense  of  divine  love 
with  which  others  were  never  blessed — even  as  a  poor 
child,  that  has  been  brought  down  to  the  gates  of 
death,  receives  the  richest  food,  the  sweetest  cor- 
dials, and  the  tenderest  nursing ;  hence  the  prayer 
which  God  delights  to  answer — 

"  According  as  the  days  have  been 

Wherein  we  grief  have  had, 
And  years  wherein  we  ill  have  seen, 
So  do  thou  make  us  glad." 

And  this  is  God,  Christ's  Father  and  ours !  Who, 
says  David,  shall  not  fear  thee,  0  Lord !  How  may 
we,  as  we  contemplate  this  picture,  alter  the  words, 
saying,  Who  will  not  love  thee,  0  Lord  ? — all  the  more 
when  we  remember,  that  while  it  cost  that  father 
nothing  to  save  and  receive  his  son,  we  were  bought 
with  a  price.  With  what  a  price  !  The  story  of  re- 
demption is  written  in  blood ;  God  having  sent  his 
only  begotten  and  beloved  Son  to  the  far  country,  to 
become  a  bondsman  to  set  us  free — to  suffer  and  to 
die  for  us.  King  and  robe,  feast  and  fatted  calf,  the 
Bound  of  music,  and  the  sight  of  dancers,  as  the  scene 
swims  before  the  prodigal's  eyes,  convey  to  him  the 
happy  assurance  of  a  father's  love ;  yet  how  far  inferior 


68  THE    PARABLES. 

that  evidence  to  the  bleeding  form  that  hung  and 
groaned  and  died  on  Calvary  !  Love  beyond  parables 
and  all  images  to  express !  God  so  loved  the  world, 
that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever 
believeth  in  him  might  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life! 

HOW  HIS   FATHER   REJOICED   OVER   THE   PRODIGAL. 

In  Iceland  are  some  springs  called  Geysers.  Hot, 
and  rising  from  basin-shaped  fountains,  they  present 
very  remarkable  appearances.  Like  the  tides  of  ocean, 
they  have  their  ebb  and  flow.  The  water  now  flies 
from  the  spectator;  and  shunning  the  light,  leaves 
its  basin  to  bury  itself  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth — nor 
gives  any  intimation  of  its  existence  but  an  occasional 
groan,  a  low,  deep  moaning.  At  the  flow,  which  al- 
ternates with  the  ebb,  it  rises  in  its  funnel,  overflows 
its  margin,  and,  with  noises  like  salvos  of  artillery, 
sends  up,  amid  clouds  of  snow-white  vapor,  a  flashing, 
liquid  column  as  high  as  a  hundred  feet. 

So  act  the  passions  of  joy  and  sorrow.  Grief  retires 
from  observation.  Hiding  herself,  she  conceals  rather 
than  proclaims  the  sorrows  that  she  feeds  on ;  and  as 
the  stricken  deer  leaves  the  herd,  the  bereaved  court 
retirement  that  they  may  weep  in  secret  over  their 
bleeding  wounds.  It  is  otherwise  with  joy.  The 
Greek  on  making  a  discovery,  of  which  he  had  long 
been  in  pursuit,  was  so  transported,  as  to  rush  naked 
into  the  street,  and,  leading  the  people  to  believe  him 
nvid,  cry,  Eureka,  Eureka — I  have  found  it,  I  have 
found  it !  Joy  must  have  vent.  A  fountain  which  not 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SON".       69 

only  flows  but  overflows,  it  bursts  up  and  out,  seeking 
to  communicate  its  own  happiness  to  others. 

Thus  some  have  been  moved  to  proclaim  their  con- 
version, and  tell  others  of  the  peace  which  they  enjoyed 
in  believing.  Come  all  ye  that  fear  the  Lord,  says 
the  Psalmist,  and  I  will  tell  what  he  hath  done  for  my 
soul ;  and  it  is  just  as  natural  for  a  heart  full  of  hap- 
piness and  God's  love  to  do  that,  as  for  a  thrush, 
perched  in  a  summer  evening  on  the  top  of  a  cherry- 
tree,  to  pour  out  the  joy  that  fills  its  little  breast  in 
strains  of  melody.  It  is  the  great  President  Edwards, 
I  think,  who  relates  how,  on  one  occasion,  he  had  such 
a  sense  of  God's  love,  that  he  could  hardly  resist  tell- 
ing it  to  the  woods,  the  flowers  beneath  his  feet,  and  the 
skies  above  his  head.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  when 
the  pure  and  powerful  joys  of  salvation  are  poured  into 
a  heart  which  sin  had  weakened,  and  never  satisfied, 
the  new  wine  should  burst  the  old  bottle, — flowing 
forth  in  what  seems  to  those  who  know  no  better,  but 
ostentation  and  parade.  It  is  not  so.  Out  of  the  full- 
ness of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh. 

In  this  parable,  so  true  in  all  its  parts  to  nature, 
this  feature  of  joy  stands  beautifully  out.  To  these 
servants  the  father  had  never  told  his  grief;  but  now 
the  prodigal  i$  come  back,  and  his  heart  is  bursting 
with  joy,  he  tells  them  of  it.  He  cannot  conceal  it. 
He  does  not  seek  to  conceal  it.  He  says,  let  us  eat 
and  be  merry — I  am  so  happy  myself,  I  wish  all  others 
to  be  happy.  Banish  all  care ;  drop  your  toils ;  let 
the  shepherd  come  from  the  hill,  the  plowman  from 
the  furrow,  the  herd  from  the  pastures,  the  meanest 


70  THE   PARABLES. 

servant  come ;  and  all  wearing  smiles  and  joining  in 
the  song,  hold  holiday  with  my  heart.  My  son  that 
was  dead  is  alive  again  ;  that  was  lost,  is  found.  And 
this  happiest  of  fathers,  rejoicing  over  the  returned 
prodigal,  blotting  out  of  memory  all  his  offences,  doat- 
ing  on  him,  drawing  him  to  his  side,  clasping  him  in 
his  arms,  ever  and  anon  bending  on  him  looks  of 
deepest  love,  pleading  his  cause  with  his  unarniable 
brother,  saying,  It  was  meet  that  we  should  be  merry, 
— is  Christ's  picture  of  his  Father ! — so  he  rejoices 
over  every  repenting,  returning  sinner. 

Who  that  elder  brother  stands  for,  it  is  not  so  easy 
to  settle — whether  for  Jews  jealous  of  the  Gentiles 
receiving  an  equal  share  with  them  of  the  blessings 
of  grace ;  or,  still  more  likely,  for  the  Pharisees,  who, 
proud  of  their  ceremonial  righteousness,  regarded  them- 
selves as  injured  by  the  favor  shown  to  publicans 
and  sinners.  Proud  and  boastful,  heartless,  selfish 
and  sulky,  he  makes  an  excellent  background  to  the 
picture — bringing  out  into  striking  prominence  the 
kindness  of  the  father's  heart.  That  is  man's  heart — • 
turned  by  sin  and  selfishness  into  a  stone;  this  is 
God's.  Is  there  no  kind  Christian  father  or  mother, 
did  they,  on  a  wild  winter  night,  when  the  heavens 
were  black  with  drift,  and  flocks  were  perishing  on  the 
hill,  and  ships  were  sinking  in  the  sea,  and  travellers 
were  lost  on  the  pathless  moor,  hear  a  prodigal  child 
knocking  at  their  door,  and  with  wailing,  sinking, 
dying  voice,  crying,  Open  and  let  me  in !  but  would 
rise — ay,  would  spring  to  the  call  ?  They  know  how 
ready  Grod  is  to  receive  every  poor  sinner  to  his  mercy, 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  SON.       71 

and  poor  penitent  to  his  bosom.  He  rejoices  in  hia 
ransomed ;  let  them  rejoice  in  him !  Rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  says  Paul,  alway,  and  again  I  say,  rejoice.  The 
sun  that  shines  on  you  shall  set,  and  summer  streams 
shall  freeze,  and  deepest  wells  go  dry — hut  not  his 
love.  His  love  is  a  stream  that  never  freezes,  a  foun- 
tain that  never  fails,  a  sun  that  never  sets  in  night,  a 
shield  that  never  breaks  in  fight ;  whom  he  loveth,  he 
loveth  to  the  end. 

Are  any  alarmed  lest  such  a  picture  of  God  as  we 
have  attempted  to  draw  from  this  parable,  should  lead 
penitents  to  think  lightly  of  sin  ?  There  is  no  ground 
for  alarm.  God  forgives  offences;  but  the  forgiven 
never  forget  them.  Does  the  prodigal  forget  his  sins 
so  soon  as  they  are  forgiven — freely,  readily,  kindly 
forgiven  ?  No.  On  the  contrary,  though  now  as- 
sured of  his  father's  love,  he  drops  out  all  mention  of 
a  servant's  place,  he  confesses  and  deplores  his  sins 
— does  that  when  he  knows  them  to  be  forgiven.  A 
sense  of  God's  kindness  is  the  spring  of  deepest  sorrow  ; 
and  the  repentance  that  succeeds  forgiveness  is  truer 
and  deeper  than  any  which  precedes  it.  Therefore 
when  God  says,  "  I  will  establish  with  thee  an  ever- 
lasting covenant,"  he  adds,  "  then  shalt  thou  remember 
thy  ways,  and  be  ashamed."  It  was  when  Jesus,  whom 
Peter  had  denied,  turned  a  look  of  love  and  pity  on 
him,  that  Simon,  pierced  to  the  heart,  went  out  to 
weep  bitterly.  The  repentance  that  needeth  not  to  be 
repented  of,  has  its  truest  emblem  in  the  rivers  that, 
lending  flowers  and  emerald  verdure  to  their  banks, 
wind  through  the  valleys  of  the  Alps.  It  is  not  when 


72  THE    PARABLES. 

•  > 

stern  winter  howls,  but  in  spring,  and  the  sweet  sum- 
mer-time, when  birds  are  singing,  and  flowers  are 
breathing  odors,  and  the  sun,  from  azure  skies,  pours 
down  his  beams  on  the  icy  bosoms  of  the  mountains, 
that  the  rivers,  fed  by  melted  snows,  rising  and  over- 
flowing all  their  banks,  roll  their  mightiest  torrents  to 
the  lakes.  And  so  it  is  when  a  sense  of  God's  love, 
and  peace,  and  forgiveness  is  poured  into  our  hearts, 
that  they  thaw,  and  soften,  and  melt  into  streams  of 
fullest  sorrow.  "  They  shall  look  on  him  whom  they 
have  pierced ;  and  mourn  as  one  mourneth  for  an  only 
son,  and  be  in  bitterness,  as  one  is  in  bitterness  for  a 
first-born." 


rv. 

f  |t  JJatafcU  0f  %  to&  SamariteK. 

Luke  x.  30—37. 

ON  those  summer  mornings,  when  dews — sowing,  as 
Milton  says,  the  earth  with  orient  pearl — lie  thick  on 
the  meadow,  and  hang  the  trees  with  diamonds,  and 
the  smoke  from  cottage  chimneys  rises  through  the  still 
air  in  blue  and  wreathed  and  graceful  columns,  the 
water  of  a  lake  looks  like  a  mirror  for  Nature  to  ad- 
mire her  beauty  in ;  cloud  and  mountain,  rocks  and 
hanging  woods,  the  cattle  that  pasture  and  the  flowers 
that  adorn  the  banks,  all  faithfully  reflected  in  this 
beautiful  image  of  a  soul  at  peace.  On  such  an  occa- 
sion, let  a  stone  be  thrown  far  out  into  the  bosom  of 
the  quiet  waters,  and  so  soon  as  it  goes  down  with  a 
sullen  plunge,  a  wave  rises.  This  assumes  the  form  of 
a  circle,  and,  widening  out  equally  on  all  sides,  extends 
itself  to  embrace  a  larger  and  larger  sphere.  Symbol 
of  our  love,  such  it  should  be. 

To  love  all  in  an  equal  degree  is  indeed  impossible, 

because  though  some  have  larger  hearts  than  others, 

the  affections,  like  our  other  powers,  act  within  certain 

limits.     Our  understanding  is  confined  within  bounds 

7  (73) 


74  THE    PAUABLES. 

that  it  cannot  pass ;  many  subjects  lie  beyond  its  reach. 
Our  eyes  have  a  limited  range  of  vision  ;  we  see  the 
stars,  not  those  who  inhabit  them.  Our  ears  have  a  still 
more  limited  range  of  hearing;  we  see  the  flash  of  light- 
ning when,  too  distant  on  the  horizon  or  in  the  upper 
regions  of  air  for  us  to  hear  the  thunder,  no  sound 
reaches  us.  On  the  other  hand,  God  embraces  all 
creatures — those  which  are  farthest  removed  from  him, 
as  well  as  the  lofty  archangels  that  stand  nearest  his 
throne.  His  heart  has  room  enough  to  hold  them  all. 
Infinite,  not  less  than  eternal  and  unchangeable,  un- 
affected by  space  or  place,  knowing  neither  distance 
nor  nearness,  he  embraces  this  world  with  all  its  crea- 
tures, and  all  other  worlds  with  theirs,  in  his  heart,  as 
he  embraces  them  all  in  his  arms.  But  though  we 
were  originally  made  after  his  image,  our  affections  are 
of  limited  capacity.  They  diminish  in  strength  in  pro- 
portion as  the  objects  we  love  are  removed  from  us — 
as  the  circle  in  the  lake,  the  larger  it  grows  in  size 
grows  the  less  in  height,  till  it  is  lost  in  the  distant 
waters,  or  dies  with  a  feeble  ripple  on  the  shore.  It 
cannot  be  otherwise,  else  we  were  gods,  not  men. 

We  must  admit  this,  and  that,  as  a  candle,  shining 
brighter  on  near  than  remote  objects,  gives  more  light 
to  the  room  where  it  burns  than  to  the  traveller  who 
sees  it  gleaming  afar  in  the  cottage  window,  our  love 
necessarily  grows  weaker  the  more  it  is  diffused.  Still, 
like  light,  or  the  circle  in  the  water,  it  ought,  not  mov- 
ing in  one  direction  rather  than  in  another,  nor  limited 
in  its  outgoings  to  our  own  party,  or  sect,  or  race,  or 
country,  to  diffuse  itself  on.  all  around.  Such  is  the 


THE    PAIIABLE    OF   THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  75 

grand  and  most  necessary  lesson  which  the  parable  of 
the  Good  Samaritan  was  designed  to  teach.  In  con- 
sidering it,  let  us  attend  to 

I 

ITS   OCCASION. 

The  Jews  had  no  class  whose  office  corresponded 
exactly  to  that  of  Christian  ministers.  But  in  their 
synagogues,  where  they  met  Sabbath  by  Sabbath  to 
worship,  and  hear  the  Word  of  God  enforced  and  ex- 
plained, they  had  assemblies  which  corresponded  more 
or  less  with  our  churches.  There,  after  a  fashion  now 
only  found  among  some  Baptists  and  the  Society  of 
Friends,  the  public  speaking  was  not  engrossed  by  the 
leaders ;  but  any  person  had  the  opportunity — which 
our  Lord  sometimes  embraced — of  addressing  the  con- 
gregation. Still,  there  was  a  class  among  the  Jews 
who  made  the  Bible  their  peculiar  study ;  and  who 
were  therefore  regarded  as  authorities  on  all  questions 
connected  with  the  laws  of  Moses.  These  men,  the 
divines  as  AVC  might  call  them  and  probably  the  com- 
mon preachers  of  the  country,  were  therefore  called 
lawyers  ;  and  to  the  question  of  a  man  of  that  class, 
the  world  and  church  owe  this  beautiful  parable. 

The  Evangelist  says  that  he  stood  up  and  tempted 
our  Lord,  saying,  Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit 
eternal  life?  But  we  should  do.  this  lawyer  injustice, 
and  violate  the  charity  which,  thinking  no  evil,  puts  a 
favorable  rather  than  an  unfavorable  construction  on 
other  men's  conduct,  were  we  to  rank  him  with  those 
who  sought  by  their  question  about  tribute  to  entrap 
our  Lord.  No  doubt  the  same  word  is  used  in  both 


76  THE    PARABLES. 

instances.  But  to  tempt — as  when  it  is  said  that  God 
tempted  Israel,  which  in  a  bad  sense  we  know  he  could 
not  do — is  simply  to  try ;  and  by  the  law  of  charity, 
as  well  as  from  a  regard  to  his  answers  and  whole 
bearing,  this  man  is  entitled  to  a  favorable  construc- 
tion both  of  his  motives  and  object.  He  had  heard  of 
him  whose  fame  filled  the  whole  land  ;  and  to  ascer- 
tain whether  he  was  as  great  a  teacher  as  fame,  prone 
to  exaggerate,  reported,  to  measure  his  ability,  perhaps 
to  try  his  soundness,  he  tested  him  by  this  fair  and  mo- 
mentous question:  "Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit 
eternal  life?"  It  involved  a  weighty  matter;  and 
would  God  that  all  of  us  went  to  Jesus  with  the  same 
question  but  with  a  still  higher  object — anxious  and 
eager  to  be  saved. 

The  words  do  and  inherit  which  the  lawyer  employed, 
make  it  probable  that  there  was  such  confusion  in  his 
ideas  of  the  method  of  salvation  as  we  find  among 
many  whose  ignorance  is  less  excusable.  They  seem 
to  think  that  salvation  is  half  of  God's  mercy  and  half 
of  their  own  merits ;  that  they  are  to  do  something, 
by  way  of  reconciling  themselves  to  an  offended  God, 
Christ  doing  the  rest ;  his  merits  supplementing  their 
shortcomings.  Their  prayers  and  pains,  their  good 
conduct  and  efforts  after  a  holy  life,  though  not  suffi- 
cient to  save  them,  are  to  fit  them  for  being  saved  by 
the  blood  of  Jesus.  Now,  how  did  our  Lord  meet  such 
,  a  case  ?  As  he  treated  Peter's — humbling  his  pride 
/  by  bidding  him  walk  the  sea.  The  disciple  who  would 
\  have  lorded  it  over  his  fellows,  and  claimed  among 
them  such  pre-eminence  as  Popery  has  since  given  him 


THTC   PARABLE    OF   THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN.  77 

in  the  Church,  steps  proudly  on  the  billows  ;  but  has 
hardly  left  the  boat's  side,  when,  turning  pale  at  the 
sight  of  the  crested  waves,  he  begins  to  sink.  He 
confessed  himself  unequal  to  the  ambitious  task — 
crying,  Lord,  save  me ;  I  perish.  It  was  such  a  course 
that  our  Lord  followed  here ;  and  also  on  another  such 
occasion.  He  bids  this  lawyer  try  the  law ;  keep  it 
if  he  can ;  obtain  eternal  life  through  obedience, — 
just  to  teach  him,  or  rather  to  make  his  own  failures 
teach  him,  that  he  cannot.  When,  in  reply  to  Christ's 
question,  he  has  recited  the  sum  of  the  ten  command- 
ments, and  shown,  to  his  credit  be  it  admitted,  that  he 
was  acquainted  with  the  spirit  as  well  as  the  letter  of 
the  law,  Jesus  said  to  him,  "  Thou  hast  answered 
right:  this  do,  and  thou  shalt  live." 

Whether  there  was  anything  in  our  Lord's  tone  or 
eye  which,  while  his  lips  said,  "  Thou  hast  answered 
right:  this  do  and  live,"  said  as  plainly  as  words, 
You  have  not  done  it,  and  know  you  have  not  done 
it, — I  do  not  know.  But  his  own  conscience  smote 
the  lawyer — telling  him  that  what  it  was  necessary 
and  right  to  do,  he  had  not  done.  To  whatever  extent 
he  might  deceive  himself  as  to  his  loving  God,  he  knew 
and  remembered — as  we  all  do — many  cases  in  which  he 
had  not  loved  his  neighbor  as  he  loved  himself.  Well 
had  it  been  for  him  had  he  instantly  thrown  himself  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus,  to  cry,  "  Save  me ;  I  perish !" 
And  well  for  us,  if  convincing  us  of  sin  and  miser y  f 
and  teaching  us  our  inability  to  obtain  salvation  by 
its  works,  the  law  has  been  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  us 
to  Christ.  These  words,  "  This  do,  and  thou  aha  It 

T* 


78  THE    PARABLES. 

live,"  certainly  shut  us  all  up  to  Christ.  Too  blind 
to  see  this,  or  too  proud  to  acknowledge  it,  the  lawyer, 
driven  to  his  shifts,  attempts  to  escape  from  the  di- 
lemma in  which  he  finds  himself.  One  door  seems 
open — offering  him  escape.  If  he  can  confine  the  term 
neighbor  within  very  narrow  limits,  he  may  evade  the 
difficulty,  and,  though  he  had  failed  doing  to  many 
what  he  would  have  wished  them  to  do  to  him,  satisfy 
himself  that  he  had  kept  the  whole  law.  So,  hoping 
to  escape  by  this  door — as  Luke  says,  "  willing  to 
justify  himself  " — he  immediately  replied  :  "And  who 
is  iny  neighbor?" — a  question  that  our  Lord  answers 
by  a  story,  which,  launching  out  beyond  its  limits, 
illustrates,  in  her  active  and  true  benevolence,  the 
queen  of  graces — Christian  Love.  Let  us  attend  now 
to  the  story  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  as  it  divides  itself 
into  three  distinct  parts. 

THE    FIRST   ACT. 

The  curtain  rises  to  show  a  district  of  country  lying 
between  Jerusalem  and  Jericho.  It  is  wild  and  rocky ; 
a  savage  place — whose  mountain  caves  conceal  men, 
savage  as  the  scenes  they  haunt.  When  one  reads 
what  crimes  of  violence  and  robbery  were,  less  than  a 
century  ago,  committed  on  travellers  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  London,  and  remembers  how  in  their 
early  days  the  mails  were  conveyed  along  the  high- 
roads by  guards  carrying  fire-arms,  we  cease  to  wonder 
that  the  road  between  two  such  towns  as  Jericho  and 
Jerusalem  was  infested  by  bold  and  bloody  robbers. 
Between  these  two  large  cities  there  was,  of  course, 


THE   PARABLE   OF   THE   GOOD   SAMAKITAN.  79 

much  correspondence.  Men  of  wealth  and  means 
often  travelled  the  road — offering  amid  these  wild  and 
rocky  solitudes  a  good  chance  for  plunder ;  and  where 
the  carcase  was,  in  outcasts,  desperate  men.  and  rov- 
ing Bedouins,  the  eagles  were  gathered  together  The 
gospel  narrative  represents  this  road  as  dangerous; 
and  since  some  are  now  getting  up  objections  to  the 
Bible,  which  they  are  ignorant  enough  to  fancy  new 
— though  they  be  as  old  as  Tom  Paine,  and  vain 
enough  to  deem  unanswerable — though,  answered  over 
and  over  again,  to  refute  them  be  to  slay  the  slain, 
it  may  be  worth  while  here  to  mark  the  perfect  har- 
mony between  sacred  and  common  history.  Now,  to 
say  nothing  of  other  authors,  Josephus — the  Jewish 
historian  and  no  Christian,  mentions  that  that  road 
was  in  his  day  infested  by  robbers.  It  was  the  scene 
of  such  crimes  as  to  be  called,  The  Bloody  Way ;  arid 
so  dangerous  had  it  become  to  travellers,  that  Jerome 
states  that  the  Romans  found  it  necessary  to  erect  a 
fort  there  for  their  protection. 

Now,  it  is  somewhere  among  its  rocky  defiles  that 
the  scene  of  this  tragedy  is  laid.  A  solitary  man  ap- 
pears— travelling  from  Jerusalem  ;  from  which  it  is 
said  he  went  down  to  Jericho,  just  as  we  speak  of 
going  up  to  London,  or  coining  down  from  it,  be- 
cause it  is  in  point  of  fact  our  capital.  Issuing  from 
one  of  the  defiles,  or  springing  up  from  behind  some 
rock,  a  band  of  ruffinns  fall  on  him.  Very  probably 
he  stands  on  his  defence.  Swords  are  drawn;  blows 
are  struck ;  overpowered  at  length  by  superior  num- 
bers, he  is  felled  to  the  ground.  With  all  haste  they 


80  THE    PARABLES. 

plunder  his  person,  nor  stop  till  they  strip  him  naked ; 
and  parting  with  a  blow  or  two  to  finish  their  work, 
on  the  rule  that  dead  men  tell  no  tales,  they  hurry 
off — leaving  him  on  the  ground,  insensible,  helpless, 
dying,  in  a  pool  of  blood.  So  the  first  act  closes,  an'* 
the  curtain  falls. 

SECOND   ACT. 

The  curtain  rises  on  the  same  scene — the  man  ii 
where  he  fell,  the  pool  of  blood  growing  larger  as  lift 
ebbs  away.  But  he  is  not  alone  now.  Two  new 
characters  appear  on  the  road,  travellers  also  going 
down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho.  The  foremost  is  a 
priest ;  the  second  we  might  call  a  priest's  assistant — 
a  Levite.  He  also  is  a  minister  of  religion,  and  an 
official  of  the  temple.  Here  again  mark  the  correspon- 
dence between  this  story  and  what  we  know  from  other 
sources  to  be  well-attested  facts.  Judging  by  these,  the 
priest  and  Levite  are  the  very  men  we  would  have  ex- 
pected to  appear.  The  Jewish  priests,  though  their 
homes  were  scattered  over  the  country,  were  required, 
somewhat  as  the  canons  do  in  English  cathedrals,  to 
serve  by  turns  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem ;  and  since 
no  fewer  than  twelve  thousand  priests  and  Levites  had 
their  ordinary  residence  in  Jericho,  you  will  see  how 
often  they  must  have  travelled  this  road,  and  how 
natural  therefore  their  appearance  on  the  scene. 

Ministers  of  religion,  fresh  from  the  service  of  the 
holy  sanctuary,  men  to  whom  others  looked  for  an  ex- 
ample of  all  that  was  humane,  magnanimous,  and 
godlike,  in  them  surely  help  was  at  hand !  It  seemed 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.      81 

a  happy  fortune  for  this  unfortunate  man  that  country- 
men, strangers  neither  in  faith  nor  speech  nor  blood ; 
men  devoted  to  duties  calculated  not  to  harden  but  to 
soften  the  heart ;  not  to  secularize  and  lower,  but  to^ 
improve  and  elevate  the  mind,  and  to  form,  in  short, 
a  noble  character — should  be  the  first  to  find  him. 
Alas !  this  poor,  bleeding  victim  may  live  or  die  for 
them.  First  the  one,  and  then  the  other  approaches 
— the  Levite  making  a  closer  inspection  than  the 
priest.  What  then  ?  No  sooner  do  they  see  his  naked 
form  bleeding  to  death  on  the  ground,  than  instead  of 
hasting  to  his  aid,  shouting  for  help,  and  doing  their 
utmost  to  save  him,  both  pass  on  the  other  side ;  and, 
pressing  forward,  leave  him  to  his  miserable  fate. 
David  says,  Put  not  your  trust  in  princes ;  nor — says 
this  story,  and  many  portions  of  history  besides — in 
priests. 

Not  that  some  excuse  may  not  be  pleaded  for  the 
priest  and  Levite.  Not  long  years  ago,  in  some  cities 
of  fair  and  sunny  Italy,  if  a  man  was  assassinated  in 
broad  day,  and  on  the  public  streets,  people  fled  the 
scene,  leaving  the  wretch  to  die,  lest,  found  by  the 
bloody  corpse,  they  should  be  accused  of  the  murder. 
Such  might  be  the  fears  which  moved  these  men  to 
what  seemed  a  cruel  neglect.  Besides,  it  is  plain  that 
they  themselves  were  in  some  danger  of  sharing  a 
similar  fate.  The  ship  steers  wide  o"f  the  rock  on 
which  another  lies  wrecked.  Its  inhabitants  fly  from 
a  house  on  fire — consulting  their  own  safety,  and 
thinking  more  how  they  themselves  shall  escape  the 
danger,  than  how  they  may  save  others  from  it.  And 


82  THE    PAKABLES. 

naturally  enough  supposing  that  these  rocks,  in  the 
perpetrators  of  this  bloody  deed,  concealed  men  who 
waited  to  repeat  it  on  the  next  passenger,  they  only 
did  what  thousands  would  have  done — when,  leaving 
'this  poor  wretch  to  his  fate,  they  hurried  from  the 
scone.  Besides,  his  case  seemed  hopeless.  To  attempt 
to  save  him,  therefore,  was  only  to  waste  time,  and 
rashly  expose  themselves — to  risk  their  own  lives  with- 
out any  great  probability  of  being  able  to  save  his. 
Then  they  had  this  flattering  unction  to  lay  to  their 
souls,  that  they  had  not  done  this  wrong ;  his  blood 
was  not  on  their  hands :  neither  their  friend,  nor 
brother,  nor  acquaintance,  he  had  no  special  claim  on 
them.  It  was  other  people's  business  as  much  as 
theirs  to  aid  him.  What  was  he  to  them,  or  they  to 
him  ? 

I  do  not  say  that  these  were  good  excuses.  Still, 
they  are  as  good,  and  better  than  many  have  to  oifer, 
who,  passing  by  misery  on  the  other  side,  indulge  a 
hateful  selfishness — heaping  up  riches  at  the  expense 
of  the  poor  and  needy,  to  the  neglect  of  such  as  are 
ready  to  perish.  God  forbid  that  I  should  even  seem 
to  justify  this  priest  and  Levite  !  "  With  them,  mine 
honor,  be  not  thou  united  !"  Yet  there  are  thousands 
who  have  no  right  to  condemn  them.  Condemning 
them,  we  are  happy  if  we  do  not  condemn  ourselves. 
The  same  spirit -of  hateful  and  ungodly  selfishness  still 
walks  the  world ;  and,  though  in  less  tragic  circum- 
stances, how  often  have  I  encountered  it — wearing  a 
new  face,  perhaps  a  fair  mask,  but  the  same  old  enemy 
of  God  and  man  ?  The  Jewish  economy  is  gone ;  ita 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.      8-3 

temple  is  a  ruin  ;  its  priests  and  Levites  have  passed 
from  the  stage  of  time — but  not  that  selfish  spirit.  It 
belongs  to  our  fallen  nature.  Nor  will  it  ever  be  era- 
dicated till  God  pour  out  his  Spirit  upon  all  flesh,  and 
Christian  love,  in  millennial  days,  reigns  over  a  re- 
generated world,  and  crime  and  selfishness,  if  not  all 
suffering,  banished  from  earth,  the  golden  rule  shall  be 
universally  owned  and  acted  on — "  Do  unto  others  as 
ye  would  have  others  do  unto  you."  Even  so  come, 
Lord  Jesus  !  Come  quickly  ! 

THIRD    ACT. 

This  story  recalls  another  which  I  could  not  read 
•without  mingled  feelings  of  anger  and  admiration. 
Dismasted  and  waterlogged  on  the  wide  ocean,  a 
thousand  miles  away  from  the  nearest  land,  a  bark 
had  drifted  about  till  all  hope  of  relief  was  dead  in 
her  starving  crew.  The  cry,  a  ship !  a  ship  !  roused 
their  flagging  energies.  Shawl  and  shirt  on  the  end 
of  boat-hooks  were  waved  as  signals  of  distress.  The 
stranger  changed  her  course  and  bore  down  on  the 
miserable  wreck.  They  put  forth  their  utmost  strength 
to  send  a  long,  loud  shout  over  the  deep  :  and  as,  on 
her  nearing  them,  they  discovered  their  country's  flag, 
they  congratulated  each  other  on  being  saved.  Who 
can  fancy  what  men  felt  who  had  been  for  days  hang- 
ing over  a  horrible  death,  at  this  blessed  change  ?  But 
still  less  can  AVC  fancy  the  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling, 
the  terrible  sinking  of  heart,  the  awful  howl  which 
rose  to  heaven,  when  the  other  vessel,  sailing  near 
enough  to  see  the  ghastly  wretches  who  implored  their 


84  THE    PARABLES. 

pity,  put  about,  and,  going  off  on  the  other  tack,  left 
them  to  despair.  Nor  was  that  all.  Recalling  that 
scene  in  the  infernal  torments  of  the  heathen  poe*., 
where  Tantalus  fills  the  cup,  and  no  sooner  raises  it  to 
his  thirsty  lips,  than  the  water  vanishes,  the  saraa 
hopes  had  been  raised  before  by  another  ship — manned 
also  by  their  countrymen,  to  suffer  the  same  cruel 
disappointment.  Sometimes  cold  and  thin,  blood,  a? 
their  rescue  proved,  is  not  always  thicker  than  water. 
When  death  had  seized  some,  and  despair  all,  a  Nor- 
wegian bark,  by  God's  good  providence,  came  sailing 
across  their  path.  Pity  filled  the  hearts  and  eyes  of 
the  foreign  sailors ;  nor  till  they  had  carried  the  last 
survivor  on  board  their  ship,  did  they  desert  the  wreck, 
and  leave  it  to  drift  away  over  the  ocean — a  wandering 
coffin  with  its  unburied  dead.  A  noble  act !  but  still 
nobler  his  who  now  appears  on  the  scene  of  this  bloody 
tragedy  to  redeem  the  character  of  humanity,  become 
an  exemplar,  in  Christ's  hands,  to  all  future  ages,  and 
gaining  an  immortal  renown,  win  for  himself  the  famous 
title  of  The  Good  Samaritan.  To  appreciate  his  con- 
duct aright,  let  us  consider  | 

WHO    HE   WAS. 

He  was  "a  certain  Samaritan,"  is  all  that  we  are 
told.  His  name  has  not  been  preserved.  No  matter — 
he  has  left  a  broad  footprint  on  the  sands  of  time :  and 
we  may  hope  that,  like  many  more  nameless  ones,  his 
memorial  is  in  the  "book  of  remembrance"  of  which 
Micah  speaks,  saying,  "They  shall  be  mine,  saith  the 
Lord,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels ;  and  I 


THE    1'AKABIE    OF    THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  85 

will  spare  them  as  a  man  spareth  his  son  that  serveth 
him."  On  him,  as  a  Samaritan,  the  wounded  man 
has  no  claim ;  they  are  not  countrymen — one  either 
in  blood  or  faith.  The  Samaritans  were  not,  as  some 
suppose,  a  race  of  degenerate  Jews,  with  the  blood  of 
Abraham,  though  adulterated  by  admixture,  flowing  in 
their  veins.  When  the  land  that  had  been  occupied 
by  the  ten  tribes  was  cleared,  and  they  were  carried 
away  into  perpetual  captivity,  their  place  was  supplied 
thus :  "  The  King  of  Assyria  brought  men  from  Ba- 
bylon, and  from  Cuthah,  and  from  Ava,  and  from  Ha- 
moth,  and  from  Sepharvaim,  and  placed  them  in  the 
cities  of  Samaria  instead  of  the  children  of  Israel : 
and  they  possessed  Samaria,  and  dwelt  in  the  cities 
thereof."  Heathen  colonists,  they  brought  their  gods 
with  them ;  and  though,  with  the  view  of  being  de- 
livered from  the  lions,  which,  multiplying  rapidly 
while  the  country  lay  waste,  disputed  possession  of  it 
with  the  new  settlers,  they  adopted  some  Jewish  forms, 
and  stood  in  some  awe  of  him  they  counted  the  God 
of  the  land,  they  clung  long  by  their  old  faith.  It  is 
said  of  them  in  the  book  of  Kings,  what  is  remark- 
ably descriptive  of  many  professing  Christians,  "  they 
feared  the  Lord,  and  served  their  own  gods."  Being 
enlightened  in  the  course  of  time  by  the  truth  which 
streamed  in  on  them  from  the  Jews,  whose  territories 
surrounded  theirs,  the  Samaritans  came  at  last  to 
abandon  the  faith  and  practices  of  their  heathen 
fathers.  Setting  up  a  temple  and  worship  in  Sama- 
ria, in  opposition  to  that  which  had  its  seat  in  Jeru- 
salem, they  became  worshipers  of  the  true  God. 
8 


86  THE    PARABLES. 

They  had  ceased  to  be  heathens ;  still  they  were  her« 
etics.  For,  though  they  admitted  the  divine  authority 
of  the  first  five  Books  of  Moses,  they  utterly  rejected 
the  Psalms,  the  prophets,  and  all  the  remaining  por- 
tions of  the  Bible.  For  these  reasons  the  Jews  hated 
them — their  rivalry,  their  heresy,  and  their  heathen 
blood,  breeding  a  bitterly  rancorous  hatred.  So  strong 
was  this  antipathy,  that  the  woman  by  Jacob's  well 
was  astonished  that  our  Lord  would  ask  of  her  even  a 
drink  of  water,  saying,  How  is  it  that  thou,  being  a 
Jfl«v,  askest  drink  of  me,  which  am  a  woman  of  Sa- 
maria ?  for,  adds  the  evangelist,  "  the  Jews  have  no 
dealings  with  the  Samaritans."  Refusing  them  the 
common  civilities  of  life,  they  used  their  name  as  a 
term  of  the  bitterest  reproach — for  everything  that 
was  bad  ml  abhorrent.  When  his  enemies,  for  ex- 
ample, Wore  i>o  transported  with  rage  against  our  Lord 
that  forgetting  frhe  sacredness  of  the  place,  they  rose 
up  in  the  temple  to  stone  Jiim,  their  passions  found 
vent  in  this  speooh  as  the  very  concentration  of  the 
fiercest  hatred:  "Say  we  not  well."  they  cried,  as 
they  gnashed  their  ceeth  on  him,  "  Say  we  not  well, 
that  thou  art  a  Samaritan,  and  hast  a  devil  ?  " 

It  was  to  one  of  this  race  that  the  priest  and  Levite 
left  their  wounded  countryman.     Many  a  bitter  gibe 
and  sneer  had  this  Samaritan  suffered  of  the  Jews ; 
but  now  with  that  wretched  man  in  his  hands  his  hour 
of  vengeance  had  arrived — and  nobly  he  avenged  him-^ 
self!     Alone  with  the  victim, — no  eye  on  him  but  the^" 
vulture's  that,  perched  on  a  rock,  waited  the  close  of 
life's  struggle  to  descend  with  foul  beak  and  flapping 


TIIK    PAKAISLK    OF   THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  87 

wing  on  its  prey, — he  approaches,  and  bends  over  the 
dying  man  ;  but  not  to  finish  what  the  robbers  had  all 
but  completed.  Risking  his  property,  venturing  even 
his  life,  he  treats  a  fallen  enemy  as  if  he  had  been  a 
wounded  brother — his  own  mother's  son.  How  beauti- 
ful is  humanity ! 

And  how  hateful  the  antipathies  over  which  love  won 
this  signal  triumph !  Hateful  in  the  Jew,  they  are, 
whether  connected  with  churches,  sects,  nations,  races, 
or  colors,  doubly  hateful  in  the  Christian — the  follower 
of  the  meek  and  lowly  and  loving  Jesus,  of  him  in 
whom  there  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  bond  nor  free. 
Yet  see  how  the  laws  of  humanity  and  Christian  love 
are  outraged  by  the  antipathy  which  the  white  man 
bears  to  the  patient  and  injured  African  !  In  America, 
for  instance,  color  is  worse  than  a  crime.  The  Bible 
declares  that  God  has  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of 
the  earth,  and  by  one  blood  redeemed  them  ;  and  in 
practical  contempt  both  of  God  and  his  word,  they 
refuse  to  eat  at  the  same  table,  ride  in  the  same  car- 
riage, worship  in  the  same  church,  or,  unless  under  the 
pressure  of  a  dire  necessity,  even  to  fight  in  the  same 
ranks  with  the  negro;  it  is  the  old  story, — "the  Jews 
have  no  dealings  with  the  Samaritans." 

Here  are  the  old,  bad  human  passions.  What  if 
time  should  bring  round  as  remarkable  a  parallel  in 
God's  righteous  and  retributive  providences  ?  Those 
whom  one  age  sees  riding  on  the  top  of  the  wheel  of 
fortune,  the  next  often  sees  eating  dust.  The  fate  of 
nations,  as  of  individuals,  has  not  seldom  illustrated 
the  laws  expressed  in  these  sayings :  Pride  goeth 


88  THK    PAUABLES. 

before  destruction;  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes, 
and  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge.  May 
those  who  have  enslaved  the  unhappy  negroes,  bought 
and  sold  their  brethren  like  cattle,  trampled  them 
under  foot,  and,  using  their  name  also  as  a  term  of  re- 
proach, repudiated  something  more  sacred  than  their 
State  debts — the  claims  of  a  common  parentage  and  a 
common  redemption — take  warning  !  The  haughty,  in- 
tolerant, contemptuous  Jews  would  not  hear  the  warn- 
ing, "  Woe  to  the  crown  of  pride !"  and  now  they  are 
a  by-word,  a  proverb,  and  a  hissing, — a  nation  scat- 
tered and  peeled.  As  ages  roll  on,  the  providence  of 
God  will  continue  to  show  that  it  is  not  war  with  its 
bloody  triumphs,  nor  commerce  with  'its  wealth,  nor 
science  with  its  arts,  but  righteousness  that  exalteth  a 
nation.  Depend  on  it,  that  the  bread  we  cast  on  the 
waters,  whether  for  evil  or  for  good,  will  return,  though 
after  many  days.  There  is  one  true  policy  for  nations 
and  individuals.  Regardless  of  immediate  consequences, 
let  them  do  what  is  right ;  if  they  have  done  wrong  re- 
pent it,  and,  if  possible,  repair  it — this  their  rule : 
What  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  ?  but  to  do  justly, 
and  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  with  thy  God. 

WHAT   THE    SAMARITAN   DID. 

So  soon  as  he  saw  the  man  weltering  in  his  blood,  it 
is  said,  "he  had  compassion  on  him."  So,  perhaps, 
had  the  priest  and  Levite.  But  observe,  no  mention  is 
made  of  that ;  no  account  is  kept  of  it,  any  more  than 
we  keep  account  of  the  blossoms  in  the  orchard  that 
come  to  nothing — -are  beautiful,  but  nipped  by  late 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN".      89 

frosts  or  blown  away  by  winds,  never  turn  to  fruit. 
In  that  respect,  this  book  is  an  exemplar  of  another, 
the  book  of  judgment.  It  is  deeds  only  that  are 
entered  there.  "  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me 
meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  ;  I  was 
a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  ;  naked,  and  ye  clothed 
me ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me ;  I  was  in  prison, 
and  ye  came  unto  me."  "  Go  and  do  thou  like- 
wise." 

Now  what  did  the  Samaritan  do  ?  Conquering  his 
prejudices,  and  those  fears  for  his  safety  which  amid 
such  scenes  and  with  such  a  sight  before  him  were  not 
unnatural,  he  hastes  to  the  rescue.  Throwing  him- 
self from  his  steed,  he  bends  over  the  bleeding  form, 
and  finding  life  still  there,  applies  such  remedies  as 
circumstances  permitted  and  his  skill  suggested.  It 
was  and  is  still  common  in  the  East,  for  travellers 
to  carry  their  provisions  with  them ;  and  it  providen- 
tially happened  here  that  what  the  Samaritan  had  for 
eating  was  not  unsuitable  for  healing — the  one  man's 
meat  was  fit  to  be  the  other  man's  medicine.  For 
that  purpose  he  uses  it — esteeming  it  better  that  he 
should  suffer  hunger  than  that  this  poor  wretch  should 
suffer  death.  Nor  in  oil  and  wine  were  his  applications 
so  unsuitable,  and  his  surgery  so  rude,  as  some  might 
fancy.  In  ancient  times  oil  was  employed  to  mollify 
wounds  and  deaden  their  pain  ;  and  wine  to  stanch 
their  bleeding ;  and  Galen,  one  of  the  greatest  of 
Roman  physicians,  pronounces  them  excellent  means 
for  such  ends.  .  They  were  at  any  rate  the  best  he  had. 
Like  the  woman  in  the  gospel,  he  did  what  he  could-^ 
8* 


THE    PARABLES. 

pouring  them  into  the  wounds,  which  he  hastily  tore  his 
own  robes  to  bind.  And  as  he  watched  with  eager  in- 
terest the  signs  of  returning  life,  I  can  fancy  the  joy 
that  thrilled  through  all  his  frame,  when  the  pulse  be- ' 
gan  again  to  beat,  and  color  returned  to  the  bloodless 
cheek,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  this  poor  man  fixed  them 
with  looks  of  eloquent  gratitude  on  the  face  of  his 
kind  benefactor. 

Some,  on  beginning  a  good  work,  go  at  it  at  first 
with  zeal ;  but  lacking  perseverance,  and  loving  change, 
they  soon  turn  to  something  else — tiring  of  it,  as  chil- 
dren of  their  toys.  But  the  Samaritan  stuck  by  the 
cause  on  which  he  had  embarked ;  and  so  presents  an 
humble  illustration  of  him  who  will  perfect  that  which 
concerneth  his  people,  and  wherever  he  begins  a  good 
work  carry  it  on  to  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Ten- 
derly lifting  up  the  wounded,  he  places  him  on  his  own 
beast,  and  conveys  him  to  an  inn,  which  he  (type  as  we 
shall  see  of  our  Lord)  approaches  in  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant— walking  while  the  other  rides.  In  these  countries 
no  other  accommodation  was  commonly  provided  for 
travellers  than  what  the  caravanserais  still  offer  in  bare  . 
walls  and  the  shelter  of  a  roof;  but  here  the  inn  was 
one  of  the  few  which,  anticipating  our  modern  civiliza- 
tion, in  landlord  and  other  provisions  resembled  our 
own. 

Having  ventured  his  life  to  save  the  Jew,  and 
plucked  him,  I  may  say,  from  the  wreck,  bringing  him 
safe  to  shore,  the  Samaritan's  work  was  in  a  sense 
done.  As  the  prophet  said  to  the  Shunamite,  when, 
having  called  her  boy  back  to  life,  he  laid  him  in  her 


THE    PARABLE    OF   THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  91 

nappy  arms,  saying,  "  Woman,  behold  thy  son,"  my 
work  is  done,  it  is  yours  now  to  care  for  him, — so  he, 
casting  the  poor  Jew  on  the  kindness  of  his  country- 
men, might  have  left  him ;  and  had  done  so  crowned 
with  the  highest  honors  of  humanity.  But  he  does 
more.  He  will  finish  what  he  has  so  well  begun.  Bus- 
iness calls  him  away  next  morning,  but  before  leaving 
he  undertakes  all  the  expenses  of  this  man's  board  and 
cure.  "  Twopence,"  the  sum  he  left  with  the  host, 
may  seem  to  us  inadequate ;  but  money  then  had  a 
different  value  from  what  it  has  now — a  single  penny 
being  a  good  day's  wages  for  a  good  day's  work.  More- 
over, wise  as  he  was  humane,  provident  as  he  was  gen- 
erous— qualities  that  commonly  shine  in  conjunction 
like  binary  stars,  the  Samaritan  undertook,  in  case  the 
sum  should  fall  short,  to  make  good  the  deficiency 
when  he  next  came  that  way.  So,  earning  the  admi- 
ration of  the  inn,  and  followed  by  the  blessings  of  the 
wounded  man,  bringing  a  blush,  let  us  hope,  to  the  cheek 
of  priest  and  Levite,  and  winning  for  himself  an  im- 
perishable renown,  this  most  noble  philanthropist  went 
on  his  way — his  purse  lighter,  but  his  heart  happier ; 
in  one  sense  poorer,  but  in  another  richer ;  finding  a 
fame  he  never  sought ;  and  little  dreaming  of  the  fin- 
ger that  pointed  the  eyes  of  the  world  to  his  example, 
or  the  voice  that  said  in  words  which  shall  ring,  in 
never-dying  echoes,  on  its  ear,  Go,  and  do  thou  like- 
wise. 

"  Go,  and  do  thou  likewise" — this  is  the  moral  of 
the  story.  It  was  told  to  rebuke  the  narrow-minded 
prejudices  and  selfishness  of  the  Jews.  May  it  rebuke 


92  THE   PABABLES. 

our  own !  Our  love  is  confined  within  narrow  chan- 
nels, because  it  is  a  tiny  stream.  Let  it  swell  into  a 
bigger  volume,  and  these  could  not  contain  it ;  and 
therefore  may  God,  pouring  out  his  Spirit  in  showers 
from  heaven,  so  flood  our  hearts  with  love,  that  it  shall 
burst  the  boundaries  within  which  education,  ecclesias- 
tical or  national  prejudices  confine  it,  and,  burying, 
drowning  them,  flow  forth  to  all  mankind !  By  this 
story  Jesus  teaches  us  to  do  good  to  all  men  as  we 
have  opportunity,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  opportunities 
of  doing  it.  If  any  man's  sorrows  need  our  sympathy, 
his  bodily  or  spiritual  wants  our  help,  let  us  think  no 
more  of  asking  whether  he  belongs  to  our  country  or 
family,  our  party  or  church,  than  if  we  saw  him 
stretching  out  his  hands  from  the  window  of  a  burning 
house,  or  found  him,  like  this  object  of  the  Samaritan's 
kindness,  expiring  in  a  pool  of  blood.  Thus  Christ 
loved  us ;  and  thus  he  teaches  us  to  love  one  another. 
This  leads  me  to  remark,  in  bringing  these  observa- 
tions to  a  close,  that 

JESUS  CHRIST  HIMSELF  WAS  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

To  jaundiced  eyes  blushing  rose,  blue  sky,  and 
green  earth,  everything  looks  yellow;  and  so  much 
does  the  appearance  of  objects  depend  on  the  medium 
through  which  we  regard  them,  that  viewed  through 
stained  glass,  for  instance,  they  assume  its  peculiar 
hue.  Thus,  if  it  is  colored  red,  the  gentle  moon  puts 
on  a  fierce  and  angry  aspect ;  and  as  if,  at  the  sound- 
ing of  the  second  angel,  the  burning  mountain  of  the 
Apocalypse  were  cast  into  the  sea,  its  waters  change 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN".      93 

to  blood.  Fancy,  under  the  influence  of  our  affection, 
plays  us,  if  I  may  say  so,  such  tricks — is  equally  illu- 
sive. Distempered  by  grief,  the  weeping  mother,  in 
sounds  that  startle  only  her,  hears  the  pattering  of  her 
dead  infant's  feet.  Looking  through  superstitious  fears, 
the  peasant  sees  a  ghost  in  the  tombstone  which  the 
moon,  bursting  from  a  cloud,  suddenly  whitens ;  and  as 
the  owl  hoots  from  the  gray  steeple,  or  brushes  past 
him  on  noiseless  wing,  he  rushes  in  frantic  terror  from 
the  quiet  dwellings  of  the  dead.  The  Romans,  bring- 
ing to  the  invasion  of  our  country,  tender  recollections 
of  their  own,  on  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill  which 
looks  down  on  the  Tay,  exclaimed,  Behold  the  Tiber ! 
And  under  the  influence  of  feelings  stronger  than  fear, 
more  sacred  than  grief,  and  loftier  than  patriotism, 
fancy  has  created  resemblances  and  seen  things  in  the 
Bible,  that  had  no  existence  other  than  in  a  pious  ima- 
gination. One  example  of  that  shines  in  a  constella- 
tion of  southern  skies,  and  another  blooms  in  the 
flowers  of  our  conservatories.  It  was  the  reverence 
and  love  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  bosom  of  the  ancient 
mariner,  which,  working  through  fancy,  when  his  ship 
first  plowed  the  waters  of  southern  seas,  saw  sus- 
pended in  the  heavens,  and  formed  of  brilliant  stars — 
and  looking  down  on  the  world,  the  tree  on  which  its 
Saviour  hung ;  and  it  was  the  same  piety  that  dis- 
covered in  the  passion-flower  an  imitation  by  the  hand 
of  nature  of  the  instruments  of  our  Redeemer's  torture, 
and  of  the  halo  which  now  crowns  his  head  in  glory. 
And  it  is  the  same  piety  which,  by  a  pardonable  mis 
take,  has  in  some  instances  discerned  types,  symbols, 


94  THE    PARABLES. 

and  shadows  of  Jesus  in  the  Bible,  that  belong  more 

7  O 

to  the  regions  of  fancy  than  of  fact. 

It  may  be  that  in  seeing  Christ  in  this  Good  Sama- 
ritan, we  have  passed  into  this  cloud-land ;  it  may  be 
that  this  is  no  more  than  a  devout  imagination.  But 
the  fancy  does  not,  at  any  rate,  pervert  God's  word 
from  its  grand  purpose,  nor  in  the  pulpit  prostitute  to 
mean  and  common  purposes  a  place  that  should  be  sa- 
cred to  the  saving  doctrines  of  "  Jesus  Christ  and  him 
crucified."  Here  we  rise,  not  sink;  and  as  if  we  as- 
cended on  a  sunbeam  to  its  source  in  the  sun  itself,  here 
we  turn  from  contemplating  Christian  love  in  the  Sa- 
maritan, to  contemplate  it  in  the  Saviour — its  celestial 
source  and  perfect  pattern. 

Viewed  in  this  light,  the  story  of  the  Good  Samaritan 
grows  in  interest,  and  assumes  the  grandest  character. 
The  whole  scene  changes :  and  with  it  the  characters  that 
act  their  various  parts  upon  the  stage.  Jerusalem,  the 
city  of  the  living  God,  with  the  mountains  standing 
round  about  her,  and  crowned  by  the  temple  where  Je- 
hovah dwelt,  now  stands  for  man's  originally  happy  and 
holy  state.  Man  leaves  it.  He  goes  doivn  from  it ; 
travelling  downward  to  that  place  of  misery,  so  aptly 
typified  by  that  Jericho,  against  which  the  ark  and  ar- 
mies of  the  living  God  waged  war,  and  whose  walls  lay 
under  this  fatal  shadow — "  Cursed,"  said  Joshua,  as  he 
stood  on  its  smoking,  blood-stained  ruins,  "  cursed  be 
the  man  before  the  Lord,  that  riseth  up  and  buildeth 
this  city  Jericho ;  he  shall  lay  the  foundation  thereof  in 
his  first-born,  and  in  his  youngest  aen  shall  he  set  up 
the  gates  of  it."  In  the  fierce  and  saVage  robbers,  who 


TOE  PARABLE  OF  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.      95 

issue  from  their  haunts  in  this  gloomy  gorge  to  spring 
on  the  traveller,  assault  him,  rob  him,  strip  him,  wound 
him,  leaving  him  to  die  in  his  blood,  we  see  the  enemy 
of  souls — the  spoiler  of  Eden — the  robber  of  man's  inno- 
cence and  happiness  and  honor — Satan,  who  was  a  mur- 
derer, says  our  Lord,  from  the  beginning.  In  the 
priest  and  Levite,  its  fit,  official  representatives,  the 
law  comes  with  its.  works.  But  it  does  nothing  for 
man — it  can  do  nothing.  These,  its  representatives 
who  pass  on  the  other  side,  and  refuse  even  to  own  this 
wounded  wretch,  teach  us,  that  "by  the  deeds  of  the 
law  shall  no  flesh  living  be  justified."  The  law  has 
not  the  heart  of  mercy  that  takes  compassion  on  the 
lost :  nor  in  atoning  merits  oil  and  wine  to  stop  the 
bleeding  of  sin's  mortal  wounds.  These  are  brought  to 
the  scene,  to  the  rescue,  to  save  at  the  uttermost,  by 
Him  who  painted  his  own  portrait  in  the  Good  Sama- 
ritan. "  What  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was 
weak  through  the  flesh,  God  sending  his  own  Son  in  the 
likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin  condemned  sin  in 
the  flesh,  that  the  righteousness  of  the  law  might  be 
fulfilled  in  us  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the 
Spirit."  There  is  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  physician 
there. 

If  that  Good  Samaritan  was  a  figure  of  the  God- 
man,  Jesus  Christ,  would  God  the  man  he  saved  at 
death's  door  was  a  figure  of  us  !  May  we  be  as  willing 
as  he  to  be  saved!  May  we  look  to  Jesus  with  the 
love  that  burned  in  his  heart  and  beamed  in  his  eyes  ! 
May  we  give  ourselves  as  much  over  to  Christ's  care 


96  THE    PAKABLKS. 

and  cure,  as  he  to  his  kind  benefactor,  when  he  lay  in 
his  arms,  and  hung  helpless  on  his  neck ;  "and  with  still 
warmer  gratitude  than  his,  may  we  ever  cherish  in  our 
very  heart  of  hearts,  the  memory  of  this  world's  Good 
Samaritan  1 


V. 

0f  %  Itpst 

Luke  xviii.  1. 

IN  descending  by  one  of  the  passes  of  the  /'j'j/a  into 
the  lovely  valley  of  the  Saarnen,  the  travelU  c  may  no- 
tice on  the  right  hand  of  the  path  a  pine-trer,  growing 
in  extraordinary  circumstances.  Enormous  masses  of 
hoary  rock  lie  scattered  in  the  bottom  of  the  ravine ; 
they  have  fallen  from  the  crags  which  form  its  stu- 
pendous walls ;  and  it  is  on  the  top  of  one  of  these,  a 
bare,  naked  block,  that  the  pine-tree  stands.  No  dwarf, 
misshapen  thing,  like  the  birch  or  mountain  ash  on  an 
old  castle  wall,  where  the  wind  or  passing  bird  had 
dropped  the  seed:  it  is  a  forest  giant — with  rugged  trunk, 
and  top  that  shoots,  a  green  pyramid,  to  the  skies. 
At  first  sight  one  wonders  how  a  tree,  seated  on  the 
summit  of  a  huge  stone,  raised  above  the  soil,  with  no 
apparent  means  of  living,  could  live  at  all ;  still  more, 
grow  with  such  vigor  as  to  defy  the  storms  that  sweep 
the  pass,  and  the  severe,  long  winters  that  reign  over 
these  lofty  solitudes. 

A  nearer  approach  explains  the  mystery.  Finding 
soil  enough  on  the  summit,  where  lichens  had  grown 
9  (97) 


i)8  THE    PAUABLES. 

and  decayed,  to  sustain  its  early  age,  it  had  thrown  out 
roots  which,  while  the  top  stretched  itself  up  to  the 
light,  lowered  themselves  down  the  naked  stone — feel- 
ing for  the  earth  and  food.  Touching  the  ground  at  * 
length,  they  buried  themselves  in  it,  to  draw  nou- 
rishment from  its  unseen,  but  inexhaustible,  supplies  to 
feed  the  feeble  sapling  into  a  giant  tree.  So  we 
thought,  as  we  stood  looking  on  this  natural  wonder, 
the  believer  grows.  Tempest-tossed  by  many  storms, 
but,  like  the  pine-tree  with  its  gnarled  roots  grown  into 
mighty  cables,  firmly  moored  to  the  Rock  of  Ages,  he 
also  raises  his  head  to  the  skies,  and  through  his 
prayers,  dray0  spiritual  nourishment  and  growth  in 
grace  from  the  inexhaustible  supplies  which  lie  hidden 
in  Jesus  Christ,  and  are  provided  for  all  such  as  love 
him.  Often  placed  in  circumstances  not  less  unfa- 
vorable to  his  growth  than  that  naked  stone  to  the 
growth  of  the  pine  perched  on  its  summit,  his  prayers, 
like  the  roots  that  descended  to  the  soil,  and  penetrat- 
ing it,  brought  up  its  riches  to  feed  the  tree,  form  a 
living  communication  between  him  and  God.  Thus  his 
life  is  sustained :  thus  he  grows  in  grace — green  and 
fruitful  where  others  wither,  and  living  where  others 
die.  Such  being  the  office  of  prayer,  and  the  end  it 
serves,  it  can  surprise  none  to  find  one  or  two  of  our 
Lord's  parables  devoted  to  so  great  a  duty :  indeed, 
anything  else  would  have  surprised  us  on  the  part  of 
Him  who  spent,  not  hours,  but  whols  nights,  in  prayer. 
The  sun,  as  it  sank  in  the  western  sea,  often  left  him, 
and  as  it  rose  behind  the  hills  of  Moab  returned  to  find 
him  on  his  knees. 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  UXJUST  JUDGE.        99 

In  almost  all  our  Lord's  other  parables,  the  truth 
which  they  are  intended  to  teach  is  stated  at  their  close. 
We  travel  through  the  story  before  we  arrive  at  the 
moral.  Here  that  meets  us  at  the  entrance,  standing 
like  an  inscription  over  the  door  of  a  public  building 
tc  tell  its  use  and  purpose,  in  these  words  :  "  He  spake 
a  parable  unto  them  to  this  end,  that  men  ought  al- 
ways to  pray,  and  not  to  faint."  As  Matthew  Henry 
says,  "  This  parable  has  its  key  hanging  at  the  door." 
Let  us,  however,  take  up  the  story  first,  and  afterwards 
the  persons  it  introduces  in  the  order  in  which  they 
appear. 

THE    UNJUST   JUDGE. 

Others  besides  judges  may  be  unjust — the  trustee 
who  takes  advantage  of  his  position  to  defraud  the 
widow  or  fatherless  whom  a  dying  friend  has  cast  on 
his  care ;  the  merchant  who,  adulterating  his  goods, 
deceives  his  customers,  or,  removing  them,  defrauds  his 
creditors ;  the  tradesman  who,  earning  the  wages  of 
iniquity,  makes  bad  work  pass  for  good.  But  these  are 
not  to  be  compared  with  an  unjust  judge.  Of  all  men,  ( 
he  is  the  worst ;  unless,  perhaps,  the  minister  of  re- 
ligion, be  he  Bishop  or  Presbyter,  who  takes  advantage 
of  his  position  to  disseminate  error,  or  corrupt  the 
morals  of  society.  To  such  cases  how  appropriate  the 
question — If  the  light  that  is  in  you  be  darkness,  how 
great  is  that  darkness!  If  the  foundations  be  de- 
stroyed, what  can  the  righteous  do  ? 

To  pollute  the  fountains  of  justice  is,  indeed,  one  of 
the  greatest  evils  which  can  be  inflicted  on  society.  It 


100  THE    PAKABLES. 

is  like  poisoning  the  public  wells,  or  the  air  we  breathe, 
or  the  bread  we  eat.  Its  inevitable  result  is  anarchy. 
Denied  justice  by  those  who  should  dispense  it,  de- 
spairing of  protection  to  life,  liberty,  and  property, 
men  will,  as  our  forefathers  did,  take  the  law  in  their 
own  hands — become,  as  the  Apostle  says,  a  law  unto 
themselves ;  and,  executing  vengeance  on  the  workers 
of  iniquity,  commit  deeds  which  it  is  easier  for  us  to 
condemn  than  it  was  for  them  to  refrain  from, — and 
which  no  man  will  harshly  condemn  who  remembers 
these  words  of  Scripture,  "  Surely  oppression  maketh 
a  wise  man  mad." 

This  unjust  judge  recalls  days  when  in  England 
one  of  her  greatest  sons,  the  father  of  modern  philo- 
sophy, and  we  trust,  notwithstanding  his  error,  a  true 
Christian,  Lord  Bacon,  was  ignominiously  dismissed 
from  the  bench  for  accepting  a  bribe ;  and  when,  in 
Scotland,  scaffolds  reeked  with  the  best  blood  of  the 
land,  shed  by  iniquity  on  the  seat  of  judgment.  We 
ought  not,  and  we  cannot,  recall  those  times  without 
blessing  God  that,  though  not  without  the  frailties  that 
belong  to  humanity,  our  judges  are  just  and  our  ex- 
actors righteous.  It  is  certain  that  hundreds  and 
thousands  now  living  who  have  done  no  wrong  would 
have  been  hanged  in  olden  times;  and,  when  express- 
ing our  loyalty  to  the  heir  of  a  throne  that,  amid  the 
convulsions  which  shake  other  nations,  stands  secure  in 
the  affections  of  our  own,  let  us  cherish  the  memory  of 
the  mighty  dead ;  and  the  gratitude  we  owe  to  the  pa- 
triots who  shed  their  blood  to  purify  the  fountains  of 
public  justice,  and  purchase  the  liberties  of  the  people 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.      101 

•—making  our  country  the  envy  of  the  world.  By 
them  the  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  us  whereof 
we  are  glad,  and  wherefore  we  should  be  grateful. 

This  parable  turns  on  a  state  of  public  affairs  of 
which  we  happily  are  ignorant ;  but  it  came  home  to 
the  understanding  of  those  whom  our  Lord  addressed. 
The  most  common  characteristic  of  Eastern  nations 
was,  and  is  still,  the  difficulty  of  clients  obtaining 
justice.  How  astonished  we  should  be  if  any  judge,  on 
retiring  from  the  bench  into  private  life,  were  to 
protest  that  he  had  never  sold  justice ;  never  by  ac- 
cepting a  bribe,  stained  the  ermine  of  his  robe  !  Yet 
a  better  man  than  they,  or  we,  did  so.  In  taking  his 
leave  of  a  people,  some  of  whom,  judging  that  noble 
old  man  by  themselves,  were  mean  enough  to  suspect 
him  of  mercenary  ends,  Samuel,  indignant  at  the  foul 
suspicion,  said — "  I  am  old  and  grayheaded ;  behold, 
here  I  am ;  witness  against  me  before  the  Lord  and 
before  his  anointed.  Whose  ox  have  I  taken  ?  or 
whose  ass  have  I  taken  ?  or  whom  have  I  defrauded  ? 
whom  have  I  oppressed,  or  of  whose  hand  have  I  re- 
ceived any  bribe  to  blind  mine  eyes  therewith,  and  I  will 
restore  it?"  It  is  a  sorrowful  thing  to  think  that  such 
a  man  should  have  had  to  stoop  to  this  defence ;  but  if 
calumny  had  breathed  even  on  Samuel,  dimming  for  a 
brief  moment  the  lustre  of  his  character,  it  shows  how 
many  unjust  judges  there  were  in  old  times,  and  how 
our  Lord,  in  the  picture  of  this  one,  was  painting  a 
very  common  p(  rtrait — as  was  his  wont,  drawing  his 
illustrations  of  divine  truth  from  familiar  objects. 
9* 


102  THK    PARABLES. 

Now,   in  studying  this  picture  of  the  Judge,  let  us 
look  at 

HIS   CHARACTER. 

A  bold,  bad  man  ;  he  says—"  I  fear  not  God,  nor 
regard  man."  What  unblushing  effrontery  !  yet  in 
their  autobiographies  men  are  seldom  so  honest.  His 
conduct  corresponds  to  his  character.  Had  he  feared 
God,  this  widow  had  not  waited  so  long  on  justice. 
"  Ye  shall  not,"  said  the  Lord,  "respect  persons,  in 
judgment ;  but  ye  shall  hear  the  small  as  well  as  the 
groat.  Ye  shall  not  be  afraid  of  the  face  of  man,  for 
the  judgment  is  God's." 

A  bold,  bad  man ;  he  had  no  regard  for  the  good 
opinion  even  of  his  fellow-men.  Not  that  that  morally 
qualifies  a  man  for  an  office  which  he  only  is  fit  to  fill 
who  believes  in  the  judgment  of  the  oath  which  he  ad- 
ministers, and  that  he  Avho  tries  others,  stripped  of  his 
state  and  placed  at  God's  bar,  shall  himself  one  day 
be  tried.  An  immoral  life  debauches  the  mind  as  well 
as  the  body — blunting  the  fine  edge  of  conscience. 

Nor,  unless  they  are  men  of  principle  and  of  char- 
acter, has  a  country  any  security  that  her  judges  will 
be  just  or  her  exactors  righteous?  Animated  by  the 
fear  of  God,  a  man  will  do  right  though  all  the  world 
think  him  wrong ;  Pilate  would  have  faced  round  on 
the  Jewish  crowd,  and  placing  himself  between  Jesus 
and  his  enemies,  seized  a  lull  in  the  storm,  to  say,  in 
answer  to  their  cries  of  "  Crucify,  crucify  him," — He 
shall  not  be  crucified  ;  otherwise  than  over  my  dead 
body  you  shall  not  reach  this  innocent  victim.  The 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.      103 

world,  no  doubt,  has  substitutes  for  the  fear  of  God  ; 
and  though  in  their  nature  inferior  motives,  a  sense  of 
honor,  regard  to  the  good  opinion  of  mankind,  the  love 
of  praise,  and  the  fear  of  censure,  are  not  without 
value.  But  even  to  these  this  judge  was  insensible, 
caring  neither  for  God  nor  for  man,  so  he  gained  his 
own  selfish  ends — got  his  appetites  gratified,  and  en- 
joyed a  life  of  ease  and  pleasure. 

Let  me  remark  that,  in  this  hateful  picture  of  self- 
ishness incarnate,  we  see  human  nature,  if  I  may  say 
so,  full  blown ;  and  in  him,  what  all  of  us  should  be, 
were  God  to  withhold  the  influences  of  his  Spirit,  or 
withdraw  the  restraints  of  his  Providence.  In  yonder 
starved  and  beaten,  caged  and  cowed  animal  of  velvet 
step  and  painted  skin,  that  but  now  and  then  shows 
its  teeth  to  utter  an  angry  growl,  you  do  not  see  the 
tiger.  Unchain  him,  uncage  him  ;  and  there  now  is 
the  bloody  tyrant  of  the  jungle,  as  with  roar  of  thun- 
der and  eyes  of  fire,  he  leaps  from  his  den,  and  with 
a  blow  of  his  paw  felling  one  of  the  flying  crowd, 
fastens  on  his  throat  to  suck  the  flowing  blood.  And 
never  is  the  sin  inherent  in  our  nature  fully  seen  but 
in  cases  such  as  this,  where,  somehow  or  other,  it  grows 
up  to  its  full  development — fearless  of  God  and  re- 
gardless of  man.  Hence  the  necessity  of  being  born 
again ;  and  that  we  all  should  offer,  and  God  to  all  of 
us  should  answer,  the  prayer  of  David,  "  Create  in 
me  a  clean  heart." 

THE   WIDOW. 

Not  long  years  ago  you  might  have  seen  a  pile  of 
wood  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  surrounded  by  a 


104  THE    PARABLES. 

mighty  throng.  The  crowd  opens,  and  up  through  the 
vista  a  lifeless  body  is  carried  to  be  laid  on  the  summit 
of  that  funeral  pile.  Again  the  crowd  opens,  and, 
like  a  wave  in  the  wake  of  a  ship,  it  closes  behind  a 
woman,  the  dead  man's  widow,  who  comes  to  share  his 
fiery  bed.  Attired  for  the  sacrifice,  on  taking  farewell 
of  children  and  friends,  she  lies  down  by  the  corpse. 
As  she  embraces  it  in  her  arms  the  signal  is  given,  and 
the  pile  is  lighted ;  and,  though  in  some  instances,  mad 
with  agony  and  all  on  fire,  the  victim  would  leap  for 
life  through  the  flames  and  smoke,  commonly,  while 
her  piercing  shrieks  were  drowned  in  shouts,  the  poor 
widow  submitted  with  patience  to  her  fate.  She  sub- 
mitted to  it  very  much  to  escape  a  worse  one.  These 
funeral  piles  throw  a  lurid  glare  on  the  wretched  state 
of  widows  in  that  heathen  land ;  and,  though  not 
doomed  in  all  other  lands  to  so  hard  a  fate,  oppression 
and  cruelty  was  the  common  lot  of  a  class  than  which 
there  is  none  that  owes  more  to  the  humanizing  in- 
fluences of  Christianity.  I  suppose  there  are  few  of  us 
but,  among  competing  claimants  on  our  pity,  time, 
money,  help,  would,  whether  she  were  a  queen  or  beg- 
gar, give  the  preference  to  one"  in  a  widow's  garb. 
Here  we  see  the  benign  influence  of  the  Gospel,  and 
God  fulfilling  his  words — "  Let  thy  widows  trust  in 
me."  How  cruelly  their  circumstances  were  taken 
advantage  of  is  plain  from  the  manner  in  which  God, 
constituting  himself  the  husband  of  the  widow,  and 
espousing  her  cause,  threatens  to  avenge  her  wrongs. 
Nor  is  this  less  evident,  from  the  strong  terms  which 
our  Lord  employs  to  denounce  those  who,  worst  of  hy- 


THE  PAUAHLE  OF  THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.     10D 

pocrites,  made  a  stalking-horse  of  religion  to  get  access 
to  the  widow's  house,  for  the  purpose  of  devouring  her 
substance. 

It  is  one  of  this  class  who  demands  justice  from  the 
unjust  judge.  None  had  less  chance  of  getting  it. 
Plundered  probably  of  her  little  all,  she  has  no  money 
to  buy  it.  Without  powerful  friends  to  back  her,  she 
has  no  means  of  compelling  it.  And  to  expect  that 
this  selfish,  voluptuous,  cold,  iron-hearted  man  will 
espouse  her  cause,  and  put  himself  to  trouble  to  see  her 
righted,  like  a  magnanimous  judge — draw  the  sword  of 
justice  in  her  defence  against  the  rich  and  the  great, 
perhaps  his  own  friends,  alas  !  that  were  to  run  her 
horses  on  a  rock,  and  plow  there  with  oxen.  Well 
may  she  renew  her  grief  over  a  husband's  grave ;  and 
as  like  a  mother  bird  when  the  hawk  is  abroad,  she 
gathers  her  little  ones  to  her  side,  well  may  she  clasp 
her  hands  to  cry,  God  help  me !  there  is  none  else  to 
help.  And  yet  from  one  who  had  no  regard  either  to 
right  or  wrong,  to  whose  eyes  her  distress  brought  no 
tears,  and  in  whose  heart  her  sorrows  touched  no  chore} 
of  pity,  she  obtains  justice — bringing  fire  out  of  a 
cold  flint,  gushing  water  from  a  hard,  dry  rack.— - 
Consider 

THE   MEANS   OF   IJER    SUCCESS. 

She  owed  it  to  importunity.  Nature  herself  prompts 
to  this — the  bube  cries  till  it  gets  a  mother's  breast. 
The  power  of  importunity  is  one  of  the  first  lessons  a 
child  learns,  and  proceeds  to  practise.  The  boy  keeps 
hanging  on  his  father,  harping  on  the  same  string, 


106  THE    PARABLES. 

giving  him  no  rest  or  peace,  now  pleading  with  win- 
ning smiles  and  now  with  tears,  returning  after  every 
defeat  to  renew  the  attack,  till,  worn  out,  he  yields 
assent;  and  thus  by  importunity,  in  a  sense,  the  weak 
things  of  the  world  confound  the  mighty,  and  foolish 
things  the  wise.  It  is  not  long  since  it  won  daily 
triumphs  in  these  streets,  where  the  ragged  boy,  on 
naked  feet,  with  piteous  whine,  and  outstretched,  ema- 
ciated hands,  ran  down  the  game.  His  story  seemed 
to  fall  on  a  deaf  ear ;  he  knew  better.  Getting  no 
answer  but  a  rough  refusal,  he  seemed  to  be  wasting 
breath  and  time  ;  he  knew  better.  Following  the  ob- 
ject of  his  attentions  like  a  shadow,  sticking  to  him 
like  a  leech,  robbing  the  day  of  its  brightness,  and  the 
saunter  of  its  pleasures,  the  urchin  not  only  overcame 
the  philanthropist's  sense  of  the  evils  of  indiscriminate 
charity,  but  opened  even  the  niggard's  hand.  To  get 
rid  of  a  pest  so  intolerable,  how  often  was  he  bought 
off  with  money  ? 

This  art  is  carried  to  its  highest  perfection  in  the 
East.  A  traveller  in  Persia  tells  how  he  was  besieged 
by  one  who  solicited  a  gift  more  costly  than  he  was 
prepared  to  give.  The  hoary,  and  as  the  people 
esteemed  him,  holy  mendicant  set  himself  down  before 
his  gate,  throwing  up  a  rude  tent  to  shelter  himself 
from  the  noonday  sun.  There  he  remained  like  a 
sentinel ;  nor  left  his  post  but  to  follow  the  traveller 
out  of  doors,  and  return  with  him.  Taking  snatches 
of  sleep  during  the  day  when  the  other  rested  in  the 
house,  he  kept  up  a  hideous  howling  and  clamorous  de- 
mands all  the  hours  of  night, — an  annoyance  which, 


THE    PARABLE    OF   THE    UNJUST   JUDGE.  107 

persisted  in  for  successive  days  and  nights,  and  even 
weeks,  seldom  failed,  as  you  can  suppose,  to  gain  its 
object. 

Such  were  the  means  by  which  the  widow  gained 
hers.  So  soon  as  ever  this  unjust  judge  took  his  seat 
at  the  gate  of  the  city,  where  in  the  East  courts  are 
held  and  all  causes  heard,  his  eye  as  it  roamed  over  the 
crowd  fell  on  her.  There  she  was,  and  always  was — 
sorrow  in  her  dress,  but  determination  in  the  flash  of 
her  eye;  her  form  bent  down  with  grief,  but  her  spirit 
unbroken ;  resolved  to  give  that  judge  no  rest  till  he 
had  avenged  her  on  her  adversary.  Now  breaking  in 
on  the  business  of  the  court,  she  is  on  her  feet  passion- 
ately demanding  justice ;  and  now  stretched  on  the 
ground  at  his,  she  piteously  implores  it.  Nor  can  he 
shake  her  off.  Denied  her  suit,  she  follows  him  to  his 
house  to  interrupt  his  leisure  and  embitter  his  pleas- 
ures. Her  voice  ringing  loud  on  the  threshold  demand- 
ing entry,  she  bursts  into  his  presence;  and  is  dragged 
away  by  the  servants,  thrust  out,  but  only  to  return, 
as  the  ball  struck  rebounds — the  billow  shattered  on 
the  rock  falls  back  into  the  deep  to  gather  volume  and 
strength  for  a  new  attack.  And  as  by  constant  dash- 
ing the  waves  in  time  cut  into  the  cliff,  which,  yielding 
to  the  incessant  action  of  a  weaker  element,  some  day 
bows  its  proud  head,  and,  precipitating  itself  forwards, 
falls  into  the  sea,  which  swallowing  it  up,  sweeps  over 
it  with  jubilant,  triumphant  waves,  so  the  persistence 
of  the  widow  overcomes  the  resistance  of  the  judge. 
Diamond  cuts  diamond.  She  conquers  by  importunity: 
yielding  to  her  request,  he  says,  "  Because  this  widow 


108  THE    P ARABLES. 

troubleth  me,  I  will  avenge  her,  lest  by  her  constant 
coming  she  weary  me." 

THE   CONCLUSION,  I 

Which  our  Lord  draws,  as  expressed  in  the  question, 
"  Hear  what  the  unjust  judge  saith  ;  and  shall  not  God 
avenge  his  own  elect,  which  cry  day  and  night  unto 
him,  though  he  bear  long  with  them  ?" 

There  are  points  of  resemblance  between  God's 
people  and  this  widow.  In  Satan,  have  not  we  also  an 
adversary  to  be  avenged  on  ?  Are  not  we  also  poor 
and  needy  ?  She  had  known  happy  days  ;  and  so  also 
had  man.  By  death  she  had  lost  her  husband ;  and 
by  sin  we  have  lost  our  God.  Poor  and  friendless,  she 
had  no  means  of  avenging,  of  righting  herself;  no 
more  have  we — we  were  without  help  when  Christ  died 
for  the  ungodly.  "  The  sons  of  Zoruiah,"  cried  David, 
"  are  too  many  for  me  ;"  and  so  are  sin  and  its  cor- 
ruptions, the  world  and  its  temptations,  the  devil  and 
his  wiles,  for  us. 

There  are  likewise  some  points  of  resemblance  be- 
tween God  and  this  unjust  judge.  Long  had  he  stood 
by  and,  without  one  effort  on  her  behalf,  seen  this  poor 
woman  spurned  and  oppressed ;  and  long  also  God 
seemed  to  stand  by  when  his  people  were  ground  to  the 
dust  in  Egypt ;  in  old  Pagan  and  in  more  modern 
Popish  times,  when  their  cruel  enemies  shed  the  blood 
of  his  saints  like  water,  and,  immured  in  dungeons, 
bleeding  on  scaffolds,  hiding  in  the  caves  of  our  moun- 
tains, his  elect  cried  to  him  day  and  night,  and  the 
Church,  helpless  as  a  widow,  implored  him,  saying, 


THE  PAKAHLK  OF  TUB  UNJUST  JUDGE.      109 

Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary  !  And  this  is  true  also 
of  his  dealings  with  individual  believers.  How  long 
in  their  corruptions  are  the  messengers  of  Satan  left  to 
buffet  them  ?  Weary  of  the  struggle  with  some  beset- 
ting sin,  and  hating  it  as  a  slave  his  cruel  tyrant,  they 
cry,  "  How  long,  0  Lord,  how  long?"  How  often,  all 
but  despairing,  are  they  ready  to  exclaim  with  Paul, 
"  Who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death?" 
But  there  are  important  points  of  disparity  between 
this  judge  and  our  God :  and  in  these  I  find  assurance 
of  final  victory,  and  the  highest  encouragements  to  in- 
stant, constant,  urgent,  prayer.  A  bad  man,  with  a 
heart  cold  as  ice  and  hard  as  iron,  was  he  moved  by 
importunity  to  redress  the  wrongs  of  one  for  whom  he 
felt  no  regard,  whose  happiness  or  misery  was  nothing 
to  him  ? — how  much  more  will  God  be  importuned  to 
grant  our  prayers !  Just,  and  more  than  just,  he  is 
merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering  and  slow  to  wrath, 
abundant  in  goodness  and  in  truth.  He  has  no  pleas- 
ure in  the  death  of  the  wicked — he  is  willing  that  all 
should  come  to  him  and  live — he  waits  to  be  gracious. 
Let  his  people  trust  in  him,  and  wait  on  him.  He 
may  hide  his  face  from  them ;  it  is  but  for  a  little. 
The  dead,  the  widow's  husband,  never  loved  like  the 
living  God.  Her  wrongs  did  not  disturb  him  in  his 
grave ;  but  ours  move  Jehovah  in  the  heavens.  Above 
the  anthems  of  the  celestial  choir,  he  hears  our  feeblest 
cry  ;  and  amid  the  glories  of  the  upper  sanctuary, 
Christ's  eye  turns  less  on  the  glittering  crowns  his  re- 
deemed ones  cast  at  his  feet  than  on  his  people  here — 
fighting  in  this  field  of  battle,  weeping  in  this  vale  of 
10 


110  THE   PABABLES. 

tears.  Therefore  let  us  pray  on,  nor  cease  praying  till  we 
cease  living.  He  may  address  us  as  he  did  his  mother, 
saying,  Woman,  my  hour  is  not  yet  come  ;  but  come  it 
shall.  Rsst  assured  that  no  prayer  is  lost ;  and  let 
this  help  them  that  wait  on  the  Lord  to  renew  their 
strength,  and  in  the  hour  of  devotion  to  mount  up  with 
wings  as  eagles  !  If  he  spared  not  his  own  Son,  shall 
he  not  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things — and  ful- 
fill, at  his  own  time  and  in  his  own  way,  these  his  own 
gracious  words,  "  For  the  oppression  of  the  poor  and 
for  the  sighing  of  the  needy,  now  will  I  arise,  saith  the 
Lord?" 

When  night  fell  on  Jerusalem,  and  the  tide  and 
hum  of  business  had  ceased,  and  one  after  another  the 
lights  were  extinguished,  and  all  fires  quenched  in  the 
sleeping  city,  one  was  kept  alive — the  fire  that  burned 
on  God's  holy  altar.  "  It  shall  not  be  put  out,"  said  the 
Lord,  "  the  fire  shall  ever  be  burning  on  the  altar,  it 
shall  never  go  out."  Fed  by  such  logs  as  blazed  on 
the  hearths  and  roared  in  the  chimneys  of  olden 
times,  yet  this  had  not  been  kindled  by  man's  hands  or 
blown  into  flame  by  his  breath.  Like  God's  love  on  a 
lost  world,  or  his  wrath  on  the  head  of  his  dying  Son, 
it  had  descended  from  the  skies.  "  There  came,"  it  is 
said,  when  Aaron  arid  his  sons  were  offering  their  first 
sacrifice,  "  fire  out  from  before  the  Lord,  and  consumed 
the  burnt-offering  and  the  fat,  which  when  the  people 
saw,  they  shouted  and  fell  on  their  face."  Whether 
slumbering  in  its  ashes  or  flaming  with  the  fat  of  sac- 
rifices, this  fire  burned  by  night  and  day  on  the  altar ; 
nor  was  it  till  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  a  thousand 


THE    PAJIABLE    OF    THE    UNJUST   JUDGE.  Ill 

years  that  it  went  out — quenched,  hissing  in  the  blood 
of  priests  who  fell  in  defence  of  the  temple  at  the  first 
captivity.  Now  in  that  old  altar  on  which  the  sacred 
fire  was  always  burning,  but  where  sacrifices  were  not 
always  offering,  we  see  the  heart  of  a  devout  believer. 
He  is  not  always  praying ;  but  within  his  bosom  there 
is  a  heaven-kindled  love,  fires  of  desire,  fervent  long- 
ings, which  make  him  always  ready  to  pray  and  often 
engage  him  in  prayer.  And  thus  he  who  engages  in 
devout  meditations  and  holds  communion  with  God 
through  his  word  and  also  through  his  works,  may,  in 
respect  of  his  habitual,  prevailing  frame  of  mind,  as 
well  as  of  his  frequent  prayers,  be  said  to  "  pray  with- 
out ceasing,"  "  always  to  pray  ;"  he  is  like  an  ^Bolian 
harp,  on  whose  strings,  by  night  or  day,  the  wind  has 
but  to  breathe  to  wake  up  sweet  and  plaintive  music. 

In  considering  more  particularly  the  lessons  regard- 
ing prayer  which  our  Lord  told  this  parable  to  teach, 
I  remark  that 

IT  DOES  NOT  TEACH  US  TO  PRAY. 

There  is  no  need  it  should ;  or  that  the  Bible  should 
— any  more  than  it  should  prove,  what  it  always 
assumes,  the  being  of  a  God.  Such  a  monster  as  an 
atheist,  who  denies  that,  it  does  not  suppose  to  exist ; 
nor  any  one,  man  or  woman,  who  does  not  acknowledge, 
whether  they  practise  it  or  not,  the  duty  and  necessity 
of  prayer.  Nor  this  without  reason.  Like  the  belief 
in  a  God,  the  moral  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  the  hope 
of  immortality,  the  expectation  of  a  judgment,  prayer 
seems  as  much  an  instinct  of  the  soul  as  breathing, 


112  THE    PARABLES. 

eating,  drinking  are  instinctive  actions  of  the  body 
which  we  need  neither  to  be  told,  nor  to  learn,  to  do. 
No  doubt,  men  who  would  be  "  wise  above  what  is 
written," — prying  into  the  secret  things  of  God,  arid, 
like  one  who  attempts  to  close  his  fingers  on  this  big 
globe,  attempting  to  grasp  the  infinite  with  finite  minds, 
— have  started  objections  to  prayer.  They  ask,  does 
God  need  to  be  told  what  we  need  ?  is  man  vain  enough 
to  suppose  that  his  prayers  can  change  the  divine  pur- 
poses ?  that  creatures  so  feeble  and  insignificant  as  we 
can  move  the  hand  that  moves  the  universe  ?  or  that 
our  will  can  be  of  the  smallest  consequence  to  him  who 
does  everything  according  to  the  counsel  and  purpose 
of  his  own  ?  It  is  not  needful  to  answer  such  objec- 
tions. I  have  read  how  a  great  poet,  who  was  a  sceptic, 
when  he  and  Byron  in  a  storm  at  sea  expected  every 
moment  to  be  their  last,  dropt  on  his  knees  on  the 
watery  deck,  and,  beating  his  breast,  cried  passionately 
to  God — the  tempest  blowing  away,  like  cobwebs,  his 
flimsy  objections  to  prayer.  In  such  hours  Nature, 
rising  in  her  might  and  majesty,  asserts  her  supremacy  ; 
and  the  instinct  of  prayer  bears  a  man  over  all  these 
difficulties  as  on  the  crest  of  a  mountain  wave.  With 
these,  simple  Christians  give  themselves  no  trouble ; 
they  are  like  an  infant  who  knows  nothing  of  the  phil- 
osophy of  sucking,  nor  waits  to  know  it.  but,  so  soon 
as  put  to  a  mother's  breast,  fastens  on  it.  And  it 
seems  as  natural  for  man  to  pray  as  for  babes  to  suck 
— in  his  distress  and  danger  to  cry  to  God,  as  on  fall- 
ing into  the  water  to  make  instinctive  efforts  to  reach 
the  rock  for  footing,  or  rise  to  the  surface  for  breath. 


THE   PARABLE   OF   THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  113 

Prayer  belongs  to  a  man  as  much  as  speech  :  for,  as 
there  was  never  a  nation  found,  the  rudest,  most  sav- 
age, in  their  habits  and  homes  the  nearest  to  the  brutes, 
which  did  not  speak  ;  there  never  was  a  nation  found, 
the  rudest,  most  savage,  in  their  homes  and  habits  the 
least  raised  above  the  brutes,  which  did  not  pray. 

IT   TEACHES   US   HOW   TO   PRAY. 

This  subject,  dividing  itself  like  a  tree  into  many 
branches,  embraces  the  spring  of  prayer,  which  lies  in 
our  sense  of  need — the  spirit  of  prayer,  which  consists 
in  devout  sincerity, — the  object  of  prayer,  which  is 
our  Father  in  heaven — the  channel  of  prayer,  which 
is  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  the  mediator  of  the  new  Cove- 
nant. Important  as  these  subjects  are,  this  parable 
directs  our  attention  to  a  matter  belonging  to  prayer, 
not  less  important.  The  point  here,  is  the  fervor  and 
frequency,  the  constancy  and  perseverance,  or  what 
has  been  called,  in  one  word,  the  importunity  of  prayer. 
"  He  spake  a  parable  unto  them,"  says  the  Evangelist, 
"  to  this  end,  that  men  ought  always  to  pray  and  not 
to  faint  " — to  pray  on,  nor  give  up  praying  till  they 
get  the  thing  prayed  for.  This  implies  at  least  on  our 
part, 

STATED   DAILY   PRAYER. 

It  is  in  the  morning  and  evening  that  Nature,  who 
gives  her  nights  to  sleep  and  her  days  to  work,  pays, 
if  I  may  so  say,  her  worship  to  God.  At  dewy  morn 
and  eve,  from  their  golden  and  silver  censers,  the  flow- 
ers offer  the  intense  of  their  fragrance,  and  skies  and 
10* 


114  THE    PARABLES. 

woods  which  were  mute  during  the  heat  of  the  day  and 
darkness  of  the  night,  break  out  into  a  melodious  burst 
of  song.  The  bird  that,  leaving  God  to  care  for  it, 
sleeps  with  its  head  beneath  its  wing  in  the  darkness, 
and  spends  the  busy  day  gathering  its  food  or  catering 
for  its  young,  drops  at  even  from  the  skies,  singing, 
into  its  grassy  nest ;  and  mounts  thence  at  rosy  dawn 
to  praise  God  by  the  gate  of  heaven  ere  it  begins  the 
labors  of  the  day.  And  so,  in  a  way,  does  every  man 
and  woman  who  has  the  least  pretension  to  a  Christian's 
character — morning  and  evening  find  them  on  their 
knees  before  God.  What  day  closes  without  many 
mercies  to  be  grateful  for,  and  many  sins  to  be  con- 
fessed and  pardoned  ?  and  what  day  is  entered  on  that 
has  not  burdens  to  be  borne,  and  battles  to  be  fought, 
to  which  it  behoves  us  to  go  forth  guided  by  the  coun- 
sel, guarded  by  the  power,  strengthened  by  the  grace, 
and  defended,  like  a  mail-clad  warrior,  from  head  to 
heel,  by  the  whole  armor  of  God  ?  To  omit  prayer,  is 
to  go  to  battle  having  left  our  weapons  behind  us,  in 
the  tent ;  is  to  go  to  our  daily  labor  without  the  strength 
imparted  by  a  morning  meal ;  is  to  attempt  the  bar 
where  breakers  roar  and  rocks  hide  their  rugged  heads 
without  taking  our  pilot  on  board.  If  from  a  sense  of 
weakness  Moses,  on  Sinai's  thundering,  flashing, 
quaking,  mount,  exclaimed,  "  If  thy  presence  go 
not  with  me,  let  us  not  go  up,"  well  may  we  say  of  the 
world,  with  its  daily  trials  and  temptations,  works  and 
warfare,  Unless  thy  presence  go  with  us,  let  us  not  go 
down.  Therefore  ought  men,  unless  in  very  rare 
circumstances,  always,  morning  and  evening,  to  pray. 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.      115 

Thus,  like  soldiers  on  the  rmrning  of  the  conflict,  we 
grind  our  swords  for  battle  with  the  world,  the  devil, 
and  the  flesh  ;  and  thus,  when  the  day's  combat  is  over, 
retiring  to  pray,  we  apply  a  healing  ointment,  the 
balm  of  Gilead,  to  the  wounds  of  conscience  ;  and  thus, 
as  a  begrimed  workman  on  coming  home  repairs  at 
even-tide  to  bathe  in  flowing  river  or  swelling  sea,  we 
resort  to  prayer  to  wash  away  sin's  daily,  guilty  stains 
in  the  fountain  of  Jesus'  blood. 

Judge  Hale,  one  of  the  greatest  ornaments  of  the 
English  church  and  the  English  bench,  in  expressing 
the  value  he  set  on  the  Sabbath  as  a  day,  not  of  busi- 
ness or  worldly  recreation,  but  of  holy  rest,  said  that 
he  found  the  work  of  the  week  go  well  according  as  the 
Sabbath  had  been  kept  well.  For  as  I  have  seen  one 
stroke  of  an  eagle's  wings  send  her,  without  further 
effort,  sailing  a  long  way  on  through  the  fields  of  air, 
the  impulse  which  a  well-spent  sabbath  gave  him  was 
sensibly  felt  throughout  all  the  running  week.  As 
much  may  be  said  for  daily  prayers — the  morning, 
elsewhere  than  in  the  skies,  settling,  for  good  or  evil, 
for  conquest  or  defeat,  for  progress  or  backsliding,  the 
character  of  the  coming  day.  Therefore  ought  men 
always  to  pray,  morning  and  evening,  day  by  day. 

Are  our  bodies  so  constituted  that  the  food  of  one 
day  suffices  for  the  wants  of  the  next  ?  Do  even  occa- 
sional banquets  dispense  with  the  necessity  of  daily 
bread  ?  Are  the  arrangements  of  nature  such  that  one 
bright  day  each  week  is  enough — sufficient  to  melt  the 
snows  of  winter,  to  turn  the  naked  forests  into  a  sea  of 
foliage,  or  cover  our  fields  in  autumn  with  sheaves  of 


116  THE    PARABLES. 

golden  corn  ?  No ;  the  body  needs  daily  bread ;  fielda 
for  the  ripening  of  their  fruits,  and  gardens  for  the 
beauty  of  their  flowers,  need  daily  sunlight,  if  not  sun- 
shine. And  the  soul  cannot  thrive,  nor  its  graces  grow 
and  ripen,  without  daily  prayer  to  God  and  frequent 
communion  with  the  skies.  I  say,  therefore,  we  ought 
always  to  pray  morning  and  evening  at  the  least ;  so 
much  oftener,  so  much  the  better — and  the  result,  if  it 
is  devout,  earnest,  believing  prayer,  will  be  to  maintain 
our  spiritual  life  under  what  appears  the  most  unfavor- 
able circumstances.  On  the  rocks  by  the  sea-shore  I 
have  seen  marine  creatures  living  when  the  tide  was 
out ;  not  in  the  briny  pools  it  leaves,  but  on  the  dry 
and  naked  rock — in  the  withering  air — in  the  burning, 
broiling  sun.  They  lived  because,  when  twice  each 
day  the  foaming  tide  came  in,  and  rising,  covered  the 
rocky  shelves  they  clung  to,  they  opened  their  shut  and 
shelly  mouths  to  drink  in  water  enough  to  last  them 
when  the  tide  went  out,  and  till  the  next  tide  came  in. 
Even  so,  twice  a  day  also  at  the  least,  are  we  to  replenish 
our  thirsty  souls, — fill  our  emptiness  from  the  ocean  of 
grace  and  mercy  that  flows,  free  and  full  in  Christ, 
to  the  least  of  saints  and  chief  of  sinners.  In  Him 
dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily. 

IT  TEACHES  PERSEVERING  PRAYER. 

What  would  be  thought  of  a  man  who  was  ashamed 
to  own  his  country,  nor  would  take  up  even  speech  in 
her  defence  among  strangers,  in  a  foreign  land  ?  It 
is  when  bro^id  seas  part  us  from  our  native  shores  that 
the  love  of  country  burns  strongest.  Her  songs  sound 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.       117 

sweetest  in  the  exile's  ear.  Those  faults  of  hers  we  lay 
bare  at  home,  we  conceal  abroad  ;  and,  like  dutiful  sons, 
try  to  cast  a  mantle  on  her  shame — hiding  it  from  the 
eyes  of  aliens.  We  are  not  ashamed  of  our  country  ; 
yet,  alas  !  how  many  seem  ashamed  of  their  religion 
and  their  God  ?  Some  could  hardly  blush  more  to  be 
caught  stealing  than  they  would  do  to  be  caught 
praying — starting  from  their  knees  like  men  engaged 
in  some  guilty  thing.  And  how  many  young  men 
and  women,  abandoning  the  praying  habits  of  their 
early  life  and  a  pious  home,  have  been  lost  through 
this  false  and  coward  shame  ?  Insult  their  country, 
they  will  resent  the  offence — the  poorest  Highlander 
standing  up  for  the  honor  of  clan  and  chief,  nor  con- 
senting, without  a  bleeding  heart,  to  be  torn  from  the 
barren  and  stormy  rocks  to  which  his  affections  cling. 
Would  God  our  piety  were  as  fervent  and  brave  as  our 
patriotism  !  But,  thrown  into  the  company  of  stran- 
gers, perhaps  of  the  ungodly,  shrinking  lest  these 
should  wonder  at  them  or  make  them  butts  for  ridicule, 
some  steal  to  bed  and  leave  .it  without  bending  the 
knees  in  prayer.  This  is  to  repeat  the  crime  of  Peter, 
and  say,  amid  scenes  where  Christ  is  insulted  by  his  ene- 
mies and  should  be  boldly  honored  by  his  friends,  I 
know  not  the  man. 

If  it  is  right  for  men,  as  an  old  heathen  says,  to  learn 
from  an  enemy,  it  is  right  for  Christians  to  learn  from 
such  as  are  ignorant  of  their  faith,  or  hostile  to  it. 
And  how  might  it  bring  a  blush  to  a  coward's  cheek  to 
see  the  poor  Mahometan — in  company  as  in  solitude, 
on  the  mart  of  commerce  or  on  the  muddy  street,  on 


118  THE   PARABLES. 

the  slippery  deck  or  on  the  sandy  desert,  wherever  he 
is  and  before  whomsoever  he  is,  beggar  or  king,  pagan 
or  Christian — drop  on  his  knees  at  sundown  to  offer 
his  devotions,  ready  rather  to  die  than  miss  them  ;  like 
a  wise  man,  counting  them,  not  his  shame,  but  glory. 
If,  boasting  of  their  villanies,  of  their  feats  of  dis- 
sipation and  debauchery,  of  their  triumphs  over 
simple  innocence,  unsuspecting  virtue,  the  flowers  they 
have  vilely  plucked  to  cast  on  the  streets  when  their 
bloom  was  gone,  bad  men  glory  in  their  shame,  shall 
Christians  be  ashamed  of  their  glory  ?  God  forbid ! 
Show  the  world  your  colors — fling  out  the  blood-dyed, 
time-honored  banner,  saying — 

"  I'm  not  ashamed  to  own  my  Lord, 

Or  to  defend  his  cause, 
Maintain  the  glory  of  his  cross, 
And  honor  all  his  laws." 

As  to  the  point  especially  in  hand — persevering 
prayer — the  very  heathens  seem,  more  than  many  pro- 
fessing Christians,  to  appreciate  its  power  and  value. 
A  traveller,  for  instance,  who  was  lately  exploring  some 
of  the  loftiest  valleys  of  the  Himalayas,  found  a  tribe 
close  by  the  regions  of  eternal  snow,  whose  religion 
had  a  feature  that  struck  him  with  great  surprise.  In- 
deed, he  sneers  at  it ;  though  no  man's  faith  should  be 
turned  to  ridicule,  or  even  lightly  assailed,  unless  care 
is  taken  to  substitute  something  better  in  its  place.  It 
may  be  a  false  hope ;  yet  it  is  his  all.  It  may  be  a 
dream ;  yet  it  is  a  happy  one — soothing  the  sorrows  of 
life,  and  scattering  some  beautiful,  though  fading 


THE   PARABLE   OF   THE   CtfJUST  JUDGE.  119 

flowers  along  the  margin  of  its  rugged  path.  Then 
what  is  the  crime  of  those  who  in  these  days  reck- 
lessly cast  doubts  on  the  Christian  faith,  and  start 
difficulties  in  the  minds  of  simple,  unlearned  ones, 
which  I  can  answer,  but  they  cannot  ?  How  cruel  to 
disturb  their  peace  who  were  quietly,  and  usefully,  and 
hopefully,  and  happily,  holding  on  their  course  to 
heaven  ?  It  is  no  light  thing  to  shake  a  man's  confi- 
dence in  what  he  believes  to  be  the  Word  of  God — in 
a  book  which  he  clasps  to  his  bosom  as  life's  greatest 
treasure,  and  will  lay  below  his  head  as  death's  softest 
pillow.  It  requires  no  great  ability  to  do  this  wrong. 
The  puniest  buzzing  insect  may  annoy  us  by  its  tiny 
sting ;  and  many  a  man's  peace  may  be  disturbed  by 
objections  by  which,  thank  God,  it  cannot  be  de- 
stroyed. 

What  excited  both  the  surprise  and  sneers  of  the 
traveller  in  the  religion  of  these  Indian  mountains, 
was  the  practice  the  people  followed  of  praying  by 
machinery.  Certain  prayers  were  placed  on  revolving 
cylinders  ;  and  as  the  wheel  went  round,  and  the  prayer 
came  up,  each  time  its  face  turned  to  heaven,  God  was 
supposed  to  read  it.  It  was  as  good  as  spoken  by  liv- 
ing lips.  While  engaged  in  his  work,  or  passing  the 
cylinder  at  intervals,  the  worshiper  from  time  to  time 
gave  it  a  turn  so  as  to  keep  it  almost  constantly 
spinning  on  its  axis.  Others  more  devout  and  still 
more  ingenious,  improving  on  that,  set  the  cylinder  in 
the  run  of  a  stream,  that,  as  it  turned  like  a  mill-wheel, 
prayer  might  be  offered  day  and  night  continually. 
Well,  though  it  may  be  a  bold  thing  to  say,  I  would 


120  THE    PARABLES. 

rather,  in  that  rude  way,  "pray  without  ceasing,"  than 
like  some,  never  pray  at  all — in  other  words,  I  would 
rather  live  and  die  a  devout  pagan  than  an  undevout 
Christian.  No  doubt  the  mind  of  the  Indian  who  trusts 
to  such  prayers  may  be  dark  as  his  tawny  skin ;  and, 
not  proceeding  from  the  heart,  they  may  leave  it  cold 
as  the  Snows,  and  hard  as  the  rocks  among  which,  re- 
mote from  the  Christian  world,  he  holds  his  mountain 
fastness.  But,  not  to  say  that  the  prayers  of  our  lips 
may  be  as  formal  and  lifeless  as  those  of  the  Budd- 
hist's wheel,  rude  as  is  the  method  of  his  worship,  and 
dark  as  may  be  the  mind  of  the  worshiper,  there  is 
a  glimmering  here  of  these  truths — "instant  in 
prayer,"  "pray  without  ceasing" — "men  ought  al- 
ways to  pray,  and  not  to  faint." 

It  is  hard,  fainting  work,  praying.  It  is  harder 
work  to  pray  than  preach ;  since  for  one  who  could 
pray  well,  I  will  get  you  a  hundred  who  could  preach 
well  a  whole  hour.  How  much  easier  for  the  sailor  to 
watch  the  night  through  on  the  rolling  deck,  the  sen- 
tinel on  the  beleaguered  wall,  than,  with  John  Welsh 
in  Ayr's  old  church,  alone,  in  the  darkness,  with  the 
town  sleeping  in  their  houses,  and  the  dead  around 
sleeping  in  their  graves,  to  pass  a  whole  night  on  our 
knees  ? 

We  ask,  and  receive  not.  Why  ?  Because,  says 
the  Apostle,  we  ask  amiss.  We  do  not  believe  what  we 
profess ;  nor  feel  what  we  say ;  nor  wish  what  we  ask 
— or,  if  we  do,  we  do  not  take  the  right  way  of  getting 
it.  And  how  can  we  expect  God  to  answer  prayer 
when  he  sees,  what  we  ourselves  might  see,  that  we  are 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.      121 

not  earnest  ?  If  we  were,  we  would  be  urgent — pray- 
ing  in  the  house,  by  the  way,  on  our  beds,  at  our  busi- 
ness— prayer,  sounding  or  silent,  a  constant  flowing 
stream.  By  constant  dropping,  the  water  wears  a  hole 
in  the  hardest  stone.  By  constant  growing,  the  tree- 
root  rends  the  hardest  rocks  asunder.  And  who,  as  he 
sat  on  a  jutting  crag  amid  the  spray  of  the  roaring, 
flashing  cataract,  has  not  marked  how  by  her  constant 
flow  the  river  has  polished  its  rugged  sides,  and  worn 
out  smooth  runnels  for  its  streams  ?  With  such  a 
feeble  power,  through  the  force  of  continued  action, 
how  great  the  results  ?  That  rock,  indeed,  is  no  more 
a  symbol  of  the  kind  heart  of  God  than  this  unjust 
judge  is,  in  character,  a  type  of  Him  who  is,  I  repeat 
it,  not  unjust,  but  just ;  nor  merely  just,  but  merciful 
and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  slow  to  wrath,  abun- 
dant in  goodness  and  in  truth.  Yet,  as  it  is  only  perse- 
verance in  grace  that  can  carry  us  up  to  heaven,  it  is 
only  perseverance  in  prayer  that  can  bring  its  blessings 
down.  Such  is  the  plan  of  redemption,  the  ordinance 
of  God — "  The  kingdom  of  heaven  sufiereth  violence, 
and  the  violent  take  it  by  force." 


VI. 

at  %  fliarisw  aito  % 

Luke  xviii.  9-14. 

NATURE  divides  our  globe  into  different  belts  of 
vegetation.  Each  zone  has  plants  peculiar  to  itself. 
Under  and  beside  the  burning  line  lies  the  region  of 
palms  and  bananas ;  then  appear  the  vine  and  olive  ; 
then  the  oak  and  chestnut ;  the  forests  of  evergreen  of 
pine,  with  fields  of  hardy  oats ;  then  the  birch  with  its 
silver  dress  and  the  mountain-ash  with  its  coral  berries, 
dwarfing  away  as  you  approach  the  pole — till  they 
vanish ;  and,  the  utmost  limits  of  vegetation  reached, 
you  enter  the  domain  of  eternal  winter,  snow  and  ice, 
silence  and  death.  While  there  is  only  one  bird  that, 
a  citizen  of  the  world,  frequents  every  shore,  there  is 
not  one  plant,  so  far  as  I  know,  that  inhabits  every 
country.  Plants  grow  only  in  certain  soils,  or  at  cer- 
tain heights,  or  under  certain  lines  of  latitude.  Un- 
like these,  pride  is  a  weed  that,  springing  up  in  every 
heart,  grows  at  all  elevations — as  well  in  the  humblest 
as  in  the  highest  stations  of  life ;  and  under  every 
system  of  religion,  the  true  as  well  as  the  false. 
Strange  to  say,  it  is  often  found  where  H  seems  to 

(123) 


124  THE    PAKAULES. 

have  nothing  to  feed  on,  where  there  is  the  least  occa- 
sion and  the  least  excuse  for  it — like  the  wallflower 
rooted  in  the  crevices  of  shattered  rock  or  mouldering 
tower,  it  seems  to  grow  best  on  ruins.  Never  till  man 
fell,  did  he  form  the  ambitious  project  of  building  a 
tower  whose  top  should  reach  to^ieaven. 

Pride  is  a  sin  of  the  heart ;  and  while  in  his  prayer, 
"  Cleanse  thou  me  from  secret  errors,  keep  back  thy 
servant  also  from  presumptuous  sins,"  David  showed 
himself  alive  to  the  dangers  of  such  sins,  others,  in 
guarding  only  against  the  temptation  to  gross  offences, 
leave  themselves  exposed  to  what  is  their  greatest 
danger.  Lodged  in  the  heart  like  a  robber  who  has 
concealed  himself  in  some  dark  recess,  and  waits  till 
nightfall  to  seize  the  plunder,  this  sin  is  more  likely 
than  many  others  to  escape  our  notice.  Not  entailing 
the  loss  of  character,  or  health,  or  wealth,  which  are 
the  common  penalties  of  crime,  it  can  be  indulged  in 
with  apparent  impunity.  Not  always  early  or  easily 
detected,  this  vice  sometimes  indeed  assumes  the 
features  of  a  virtue — apes  a  noble  independence  of 
spirit,  self-respect,  a  due  regard  to  our  rank  and  posi- 
tion ;  nay,  even  a  sacred  respect  to  God's  truth,  to 
purity  of  doctrine  or  holiness  of  life.  In  Herod  it 
wore  the  mask  of  conscience,  and  for  his  oath's  sake 
he  beheaded  John  ;  in  the  Jews,  of  a  tender  regard  for 
God's  honor,  and  they  would  have  no  dealings  with  the 
Samaritans ;  in  the  Pharisee,  of  purity  of  life,  and  so, 
sailing  magnificently  past  the  woman  that  was  a  sinner, 
lest  his  robes  should  be  defiled  by  the  touch  of  hers, 
he  warns  her  offv  saying,  Stand  aside,  I  am  holier 


THE   PHARISEE    AND  THE   PUBLICAN.  125 

than  tbou.  Obtaining  access  to  hearts  which  would 
close  the  door  in  the  face  of  grosser  vices,  pride,  be- 
sides, is  a  very  dreadful  and  deadly  sin.  Has  it  not 
proved  itself  so  ?  It  cost  Nebuchadnezzar  his  reason ; 
in  his  successors  it  cost  Hezekiah  his  kingdom  ;  on  Ga- 
lilee it  nearly  cost  Simon  Peter  his  life ;  taking  root 
in  the  hearts  of  our  first  parents,  it  cost  them  and 
mankind  Eden ;  springing  up  in  angels'  bosoms,  it  cost 
them  heaven.  And  as  the  wary  mariner,  dreading  it 
more  than  lowering  skies  or  stormy  sea,  takes  alarm  at 
the  first  sign  of  the  leak  which,  hid  beneath  the  sur- 
face and  gaping  by  the  keel,  admits  the  water  into  the 
hold,  our  Lord,  alarmed,  if  I  may  say  so.  at  the  first 
signs  of  this  insidious  and  fatal  sin  in  his  disciples, 
promptly  proceeds  to  stop  the  evil ;  and  for  this  pur- 
pose, to  instruct,  warn,  and  alarm  them,  he  relates  the 
parable  of  the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican. 

Before  studying  these  two  characters  in  their  order, 
let  us  take  a  general  survey  of  the  religion  of  the 
Pharisees,  and  attend  to  such  practical  lessons  as  it  is 
calculated  to  suggest  and  teach. 

THEIR    RELIGION    HAD   NOT   ITS    SEAT   IN   THE 
HEART. 

Baron  Humboldc  mentions  a  remarkable  custom  of 
some  of  the  native  tribes  of  America — one  that  would 
have  carried  our  thoughts  homeward  as  much  as  a  daisy 
springing  from  the  sod  of  their  prairies,  or  a  lark  sing- 
ing in  Indian  skies.  Som3  time  after  a  child  is  born, 
a  font  full  of  water  is  brought  into  the  tent,  and  a  fire 
kindled  on  its  floor.  The  babe  is  than  taken  from  its 
11* 


126  THE   PARABLES. 

mother's  arms,  not  to  be  burned  or  drowned,  but  plunged 
over  head  into  the  wa.ter  and  swung  rapidly  through 
the  flames.  In  this  custom,  which  is  practised  on  all 
their  children,  we  see  a  rude  baptismal  rite :  nor  is  it 
possible  to  read  of  it  and  still  less  were  it  possible  to 
see  this  ceremony  without  recalling  the  words  of  John  : 
"  He  shall  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with 
fire;"  and  those  of  Christ  Himself:  "Except  a  man 
be  born  of  water  and.  of  the  Spirit,  he  caiinot  enter 
into  thfe  kingdom  of  God."  As  I  have  seen  an  insect 
that  may  have  fluttered  among  the  flowers  of  Eden,  or 
perished  amidst  the  waters  of  the  flood,  embalmed  in 
amber,  in  this  custom  we  seem  to  see,  embalmed  in 
tradition,  a  fragment  of  patriarchal  piety,  and  of  the 
divine  truths  which  man  knew  when  the  ancestors  of 
these  Indians — perhaps  the  world's  earliest  emigrants — 
left  the  cradle  of  mankind.  It  is  a  symbolical  confes- 
sion of  human  depravity,  and  of  the  necessity  that  the 
soul  should  be  purified  as  by  fire  and  water  from  inborn 
corruption ;  and  to  witness  this  remarkable  rite  among 
these  distant  heathen  could  hardly  fail  to  transport  us 
on  the  wings  of  fancy  to  the  old  church  at  home,  where 
a  father  was  holding  up  his  babe  for  baptism,  or  the 
voices  of  the  great  congregation  were  singing  to  some 
familiar,  plaintive  tune, 

Behold  I  in  iniquity 

Was  formed  the  womb  within, 
My  mother  also  me  conceived 

In  guiltiness  and  sin. 

How  strange  to  turn  to  the  Pharisees,  and  find  them, 
with  the  Word  of  God  in  their  hands,  apparently  more 


THE   PHARISEE   AND  THE   PUBLICAN.  127 

ignorant  than  those  painted  savages — illustrating  the 
paradox  of  Scripture :  "  They  have  eyes  but  they  see 
not,  ears  but  they  hear  not,  and  ininds  but  they  do  not 
understand."  They  were  profoundly  ignorant  of  the 
plague  of  their  own  hearts.  They  did  not  feel  the 
need  of  being  renewed,  or  know  that  religion  cannot 
live  anywhere  but  in  the  heart,  and  lies  in  nothing  so 
much  as  a  heart  right  with  God.  Even  Nicodemus 
seemed  ignorant  of  this.  When  informed  by  our  Lord 
that  he  must  be  born  again,  he  was  surprised,  filled 
with  astonishment ;  and  with  a  simplicity  which  we 
might  expect,  and  would  excuse  in  a  child,  replied, 
"  How  can  a  man  be  born  when  he  is  old  ?  Can  he 
enter  a  second  time  into  his  mother's  womb  and  be 
born?"  If  it  was  thus  with  him — a  ruler  in  Israel,  a 
man  who  felt  such  an  interest  in  religion  that  he 
sought  our  Lord,  though  under  the  cloak  of  night, 
what  must  it  have  been  with  others  ?  How  appro- 
priate to  the  followers  of  such  leaders,  the  question, 
"  If  the  light  that  is  in  you  be  darkness,  how  great  is 
that  darkness ! " 

It  was  great,  gross,  darkness.  The  religion  of  these 
Pharisees  consisting  of  mere  ceremonial  observances, 
lying  in  such  matters  as  meats  and  drinks,  washing 
platters,  paying  tithes  and  keeping  fasts,  the  worst 
passions  were  left  to  rage  and  burn  within  their  hearts 
— as  do  volcanic  fires  beneath  the  purple  vineyards 
and  green  forests  of  Vesuvius'  slopes.  Outwardly 
saints,  they  were  inwardly  devils.  And  lest  I  should 
be  considered  uncharitable,  let  us  hear  his  account  of 
them,  who  in  the  f alines*  of  his  tenderness  and  mercy 


128  THE   PARABLES 

promised  Paradise  to  a  dying  thief,  and  turned  eyes  of 
pity  on  the  woman  that  was  a  sinner.  "  Woe  unto 
you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites,"  said  our  Lord, 
"  for  ye  are  like  unto  whited  sepulchres,  which  indeed 
appear  beautiful  outward,  but  within  are  full  of  dead 
men's  bones  and  of  all  uncleanness.  Even  so  ye  also 
appear  outwardly  righteous  unto  men,  but  within  ye 
are  full  of  hypocrisy  and  iniquity.  Fill  ye  up  the 
measure  of  your  fathers.  Ye  serpents,  ye  generation 
of  vipers,  how  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell." 

THEIR  RELIGION  L^Y  IN  OUTWARD  ACTS  OF  WORSHIP  AND 
A  SCRUPULOUS  OBSERVANCE  OF  ITS  FORMS. 

In  one  of  our  late  Indian  battles,  a  native  officer  lay 
mortally  wounded  on  the  field  beside  one  of  our  own. 
Exhausted  with  loss  of  blood  and  exposed  to  the  fierce 
rays  of  a  burning  sun,  both  were  tortured  with  thirst. 
One,  whose  motions  they  eagerly  watched,  at  length 
approached  them  with  a  supply  of  water.  After  our 
countryman  had  taken  a  long,  deep  draught,  it  was 
presented  to  the  Hindoo.  He  had  been  crying  for 
water,  and  had  it  now.  Yet,  ere  he  drinks,  he  turns 
a  dying  eye  on  the  Good  Samaritan  to  ask  his  caste. 
It  is  low ;  and  his  religion  forbids  him  to  take  meat  or 
drink  from  such  impure  hands.  Our  countryman,  see- 
ing him  hesitate,  remonstrates — telling  how  it  will  as- 
suage his  sufferings,  and  may  save  his  life :  but  reaion^ 
strates  in  vain.  The  other  turns  one  greedy  look  on 
the  blessed  water,  and  pours  it  out  on  the  ground — a 
sacrifice  to  the  claims  of  conscience.  And  esteeming 
a  devout  Pagan  a  better  man  in  God's  sight  than  a 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  TUE  PUBLICAN.        129 

careless,  unconscientious  Christian,  I  say,  whatever 
judgment  others  may  pronounce  on  this  act,  would  God 
that  Christ's  followers  were  as  ready  to  take  up  their 
cross,  deny  themselves  daily,  and  follow  Jesus ;  dying 
with  Him  rather  than  denying  Him ! 

The  scrupulous  observance  which  the  Pharisees  paid 
to  mere  forms,  has  no  such  claims  on  our  respect. 
They  knew,  or  ought  to  have  known,  better.  Yet, 
neglecting  the  moral  law  and  even  violating  its 
plainest  precepts,  they  made  religion  lie  wholly  in 
ritual  observances  and  certain  outward  acts  of  worship. 
They  gave  alms.  They  prayed  often.  They  fasted 
and  paid  tithes ;  fasting  oftener  and  paying  tithes  on 
more  things  than  even  the  law  required^-as  if  they 
would  make  God  their  debtor.  They  were  scrupu- 
lously careful  to  avoid  any  ceremonial  uncleanness ; 
and  that  was  one  reason  perhaps  why  the  priest  and 
Levite  left  the  wounded  man  on  the  road,  lest  the 
touch  of  what  might  be  a  dead  body  should  render 
them  unclean.  They  were  particularly  careful  also  to 
observe  all  ceremonial  duties ;  and  therefore  the  mur- 
derers of  our  Lord,  with  his  blood  still  red  on  their 
guilty  hands,  sought  to  have  his  body  removed  from 
the  cross,  and  respect  rendered  to  the  law  which  re- 
quired that  whosoever  was  hanged  should  be  taken 
down  by  sunset.  They  were  close  attenders  also  on 
the  temple,  where,  as  in  a  Roman  Catholic  church, 
with  a  crowd  of  worshipers,  on  their  knees,  telling 
their  beads,  repeating  their  prayers  with  eyes  cast  on 
the  ground  or  raised  to  an  image,  there  was  great 
appearance  of  devotion.  Apparently  abstracted  from 


130  THE   PARABLES. 

all  sublunary  things,  with  hands  and  eyes  raised  to 
heaven,  with  loud  and  sonorous  voice  sounding  forth 
his  prayer,  with  texts  of  Scripture  sown  on  his  dress, 
and  ashes  sprinkled  on  his  head,  there  stood  the 
Pharisee — a  living  lie — a  whited  sepulchre,  with  a 
head  as  dark  and  a  heart  as  foul  as  the  grave. 

Lights  are  kindled  on  the  seaboard,  some  to  guide 
the  ship  in,  others  to  warn  her  off:  this  burns  at  the 
harbor's  mouth,  and  that,  a  beacon  of  danger,  flashes 
where  the  sea  breaks  foaming  on  a  fatal  reef.  And 
the  Pharisees  have  left  us,  not  an  example  to  follow, 
but  to  avoid.  How  does  their  case  warn  the  churches 
against  attaching  much  importance  to  religious  forme, 
either  in  the  way  of  unreasonably  adhering  to  such  as 
are  old,  or  unnecessarily  introducing  such  as  are  new. 
It  is  in  the  nature  of  a  religion  of  many  forms  to  de- 
generate into  one  of  form.  By  occupying  and  indeed 
engrossing  the  attention  of  the  worshiper,  they  with- 
draw it  from  the  state  of  his  heart,  and  prove  as  per- 
nicious to  true  piety  as  a  superabundance  of  leaves  to 
the  plant,  whose  sap  is  spent  on  feeding  the  leaf,  to 
the  detriment  of  the  fruit :  and  perhaps  some  churches 
might  be  benefited  by  a  free  use  of  the  knife  with 
which  the  gardener  prunes  away  the  flush  of  green 
wood  to  increase  the  crop  of  fruit.  I  see  much  danger 
in  a  multiplicity,  but  little,  or  none,  in  a  variety  of 
forms.  Unity  with  variety  is  God's  law  in  the  king- 
dom of  nature ;  and  why  should  not  his  law  in  the 
kingdom  of  grace  be  unity  of  spirit  with  variety  of 
forms  ?  Uniformity  is  but  the  shadow  of  unity  :  and 
how  often  have  churches  in  vain  attempts  after  the  first, 


THE   PHARISEE    AND  THE   PUBLICAN.  131 

lost  the  second — like  the  dog  in  the  fable  lost  both  ?  At 
the  Lord's  table  I  have  knelt  with  Episcopalians,  I  have 
sat  with  Presbyterians,  and  I  have  stood  with  fellow- 
worshipers  in  a  foreign  church  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Alps  ;  and  I  can  only  pity  the  person  who,  believing  in 
the  communion  of  the  saints,  could  find  in  the  attitude 
any  reason  for  not  engaging  in  the  ordinance.  This 
were  to  be  great  in  little  things;  and  forget  that  Chris- 
tian love  and  charity  which  are  the  weightier  matters  of 
the  law.  It  may  be  that  the  forms  of  worship  in  some 
of  our  churches  are,  as  is  alleged,  bald  and  bare.  If 
so,  there  is  no  reason  why  this  should  not  be  amended. 
But  there  is  much  reason  why  we  should  beware,  on 
the  one  hand,  of  putting  uniformity  of  worship  in  room 
of  the  unity  of  the  spirit,  and,  on  the  other,  cf  sub- 
stituting dead  forms  for  a  living  faith.  Let  us  never 
forget  that  forms  are  not  religion,  but  only  its  drapery; 
and  that,  as  they  dress  children  lightly  who  wish  to 
brace  their  frames,  as  the  laborer  throws  off  his  coat 
to  work,  and  as  in  the  ancient  games  the  candidates 
stepped  into  the  race-course  unencumbered  with  many, 
or  heavy,  garments,  the  fewer  forms  which  religion 
wears,  consistent  with  decency  and  order,  the  more 
robust  she  will  grow — she  will  work  with  greater 
energy — and,  like  one  of  beautiful  mould  and  sym- 
metry, she  will  walk  with  more  native,  queenly,  grace 
—when 

Unadorned,  adorned  the  most 


132  THE   PARABLES. 

THEIR   RELIGION   WAS   CHARACTERIZED   BY 
OSTENTATION. 

The  Pharisees  distributed  charity ;  but  it  was  to  the 
lound  of  a  trumpet,  seeking  the  praise  of  men  under 
pretence  of  caring  for  the  poor ; — therefore  our  Lord 
said,  "  When  thou  doest  thine  alms,  do  not  sound  a 
trumpet  before  thee,  as  the  hypocrites  do  in  the  syna- 
gogues, and  in  the  streets,  that  they  may  have  glory 
of  men."  They  fasted  ;  but  not  from  sin  ; — therefore 
our  Lord,  detecting  "  the  lust  of  the  eyes  and  the 
pride  of  life"  looking  out  from  the  holes  of  their  rueful 
mask,  warned  his  disciples,  saying:  "  When  ye  fast  be 
not  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance,  for  they 
disfigure  their  faces  that  they  may  appear  unto  men 
to  fast."  They  prayed;  not  that  they  might  be  par- 
dr,ucd  of  God,  but  praised  of  men,  and  gaining  a  char- 
acter for  piety,  gain  the  widow's  esteem  for  the  vil- 
lancus  purpose  of  plundering  her  house.  Their  hu- 
mility was  but  the  stepping-stone  of  their  ambition — 
tigers,  they  crouched  to  make  the  surer,  deadlier, 
spring ;  and  therefore  our  Lord  warned  his  disciples, 
saying,  "  Thou  shalt  not  be  as  the  hypocrites,  for  they 
Jove  to  pray  standing  in  the  synagogues  and  in  the 
corners  of  the  street,  that  they  may  be  seen  of  men." 
That  they  may  be  sot-n  of  men  !  he  rings  the  changes 
on  that — exposing  the  vride  and  vanity  that  lay  at  the 
root  of  their  religion.  Loud,  ostentatious,  and  unpro- 
fitable, it  was  like  the  brawling,  noisy,  foaming,  frothy 
torrent,  which,  with  a  rock  *or  its  bed  and  barrenness 
on  its  banks,  makes  itself  aeen  and  heard.  How 


THE    J'ilAKl&J&E    AND   THE    PUBLICAJf.  133 

different  genuine,  gracious  piety !  Affluent  in  blessings 
b.»  retiring  from  observation,  it  has  its  symbol  in  the 
stream  that  pursues  a  silent  course,  and,  flashing  out 
in  the  light  of  day  but  here  and  there,  but  now  and 
then,  is  not  known  but  by  the  good  it  does — the 
flowers  that  bloom  on  its  banks,  and  the  evergreen 
verdure  which  it  gives  to  the  pastures  through  which  it 
•winds  on  its  quiet  path. 

To  appreciate  the  justice  of  these  remarks,  we  have 
only  to  look  at  the  sect  in  the  specimen  of  it  thia 
parable  presents.  Judging  the  stock  by  the  sample, 
look  at 

THE   PHARISEE. 

Sweeping  contemptuously  by  others  who,  feeling  them' 
selves  unworthy  to  tread  the  holy  courts,  worshiped 
reverently  at  a  distance,  he  makes  his  way  to  the 
front,  pride  in  his  eye,  and  self-complacency  in  his 
bearing ;  and  now  beyond  the  vulgar  throng,  he  stands 
to  begin  his  devotions,  not  only  to  pray  thus  with  him- 
self, but  that  he  might  be  the  observed  of  all  ob- 
servers by  himself — an  interpretation  of  the  words 
which  betrays  no  lack  of  charity,  since  our  Lord  has 
told  us  that  the  Pharisees  did  pray  to  be  seen  of  men. 
There  is  often  a  great  incongruity  between  the  lan- 
guage of  our  prayers  and  the  state  of  our  hearts — 
the  one,  alas,  is  so  much  more  devout  than  the  other. 
But  there  was  no  inconsistency  here.  Out  of  the 
abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  spake  here ;  and 
seldom  has  God  listened  to  such  an  offensive  outpour- 
ing of  pride  and  arrogance.  Observe  first  the  fashion 
12 


134  THE   PAEABLES. 

and  form  of  his  prayer.  In  a  sense,  it  is  no  prayer — 
it  contains  neither  confession  nor  petition ;  there  is 
neither  guilt  acknowledged  nor  pardon  asked ;  it  ex- 
presses no  want,  and  it  asks  no  help.  No  doubt  there 
is  an  acknowledgment  of  divine  goodness — God  is 
mentioned,  is  thanked ;  yet  there  is  no  redeeming  point 
in  this.  Under  a  flimsy  pretense  of  glorifying  God, 
he  glorifies  himself,  and  as  to  his  expression  of  thanks, 
I  regard  that  as  on  a  par  with  those  professions  of 
humility  in  which  many  vain  men  are  in  the  habit  of  in- 
dulging ;  and  which  are  but  a  cover,  and  a  very  trans- 
parent one,  for  their  self-conceit — for  telling  what 
feeds  their  vanity  and  is  intended  to  exalt  themselves. 
To  thank  God  is  right.  We  have  much  to  thank  him 
for ;  and  had  the  Pharisee  said,  God,  I  thank  thee  that 
I  am  not  in  hell,  that  thou  hast  not  dealt  with  me  ac- 
cording to  my  sins,  that  thou  hast  so  restrained  the 
corruptions  of  this  wicked  heart  as  to  keep  me  back 
from  presumptuous,  flagrant  sins — if  the  thought  of 
others  had  excited  such  gratitude  in  his  heart  as 
was  expressed  by  one  who,  seeing  a  felon  led  to  the 
gallows,  exclaimed,  speaking  of  himself,  But  for  the 
grace  of  God,  there  goes  John  Bradford ! — imperfect 
as  his  prayer  was,  on  that  one  leg  it  might  have  limped 
to  heaven.  Done  in  the  spirit  that  does  not  despise 
but  pity  the  wicked,  to  thank  God  that  we  are  not  as 
they  are  is  a  pious  thing.  All  are  hewn  out  of  the 
same  rock,  and  dug  out  of  the  hole  of  the  same  pit ; 
and  the  purest  woman  therefore  has  cause  to  thank 
God  that  she  is  not  as  the  basest  of  her  sex ;  nor  is 
there  a  good  man  who  has  been  preserved  from  be- 


THE    PIIAEISEB    AND   TUB    PUBLICAN.  135 

coming,  like  some  of  his  early  associates,  a  wreck  of 
character,  of  body,  of  soul,  but,  as  he  sees  in  their 
fate  what  his  might  have  been,  will  thank  God  that  he 
is  not  as  others — giving  the  glory  where  it  is  due ; 
saying,  with  the  apostle,  "By  grace  I  am  what 
I  am." 

Secondly,  observe  the  substance  of  his  prayer.  He 
tells  God  how  he  fasted  and  paid  tithes.  And  if  reli- 
gion lay  in  abstaining  from  food  but  not  from  sin,  in 
giving  our  property  but  not  our  hearts  to  God,  he  was 
indeed  a  religious  man — and  more  religious  than  may 
at  first  appear.  The  Mosaic  economy,  which  is  mis- 
represented by  many  as  a  system  of  great  austerity, 
established  numerous  feasts  during  which  the  people, 
set  loose  from  toil  and  arrayed  in  holiday  attire,  were 
to  eat  of  the  fat  and  drink  of  the  sweet  and  pass  their 
time  in  innocent  pleasures.  It  enjoined  but  one  fast 
— only  one  in  the  whole  fifty-two  weeks  of  the  year. 
But  this  Pharisee,  not  content  with  fasting  once  each 
year  as  the  law  required,  fasted  twice  each  week;  and, 
teaching  us  to  set  little  value  on  such  ritual  obser- 
vances, the  fasts  that  starved  his  body  seem  only  to 
have  fed  his  pride ;  the  austerities  which  mortified  his 
flesh  became  the  means  of  gratifying  his  vanity.  He 
showed  a  corresponding  excess  of  zeal  in  the  matter 
of  tithes.  God  required  his  people  to  tithe  the  fruits 
of  the  olive  and  vine,  the  sheaves  of  the  field  and  the 
produce  of  their  flocks :  but  as  in  those  countries 
where,  devoted  to  a  life  of  celibacy,  men  immure 
themselves  in  monasteries,  and  women  wither  in  con- 
vents, the  sacrifices  of  the  Pharisee  rose  above  the  re« 


136  THE    PAKABLES. 

quirements  of  the  law — anise  and  cummin  and  other 
common  pot-herbs  were  all  scrupulously  tithed.  Hence 
his  boast,  I  fast  twice  a  week,  and  pay  tithes  of  all 
that  I  possess.  In  other  words :  What  a  good  man  I 
am  ;  let  others  acknowledge  their  shortcomings ;  as  for 
me,  I  dread  not  a  day  of  count  and  reckoning ;  for 
me,  the  day  of  judgment  that  brings  man  face  to 
face  with  God  has  no  terrors  ;  I  have  done  more  than 
he  requires ;  He  is  my  debtor  rather  than  I  his — the 
balance  will  stand  in  my  favor.  What  great,  swelling 
words  of  vanity !  How  may  we  apply  to  this  miser- 
able self-deceiver,  and  to  all  that  self-righteous  class 
of  whom,  though  the  pride  of  their  hearts  may  not  be 
so  fully  developed,  he  is  the  type,  our  Lord's  lan- 
guage to  the  Laodiceans,  "  Thou  sayest,  I  am  rich, 
and  increased  with  goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing : 
and  knowest  not  that  thou  art  wretched,  and  miser- 
able, and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked."  So  we  might 
dismiss  him  to  make  way  for  a  better  man — praying 
God  by  his  Holy  Spirit  to  keep  us  not  only  from  the 
lust  of  the  flesh  and  the  lust  of  the  eye,  but  also  from 
the  pride  of  life. 

But  we  are  not  done  with  the  Pharisee.  He  has 
certain  negative  as  well  as  positive  merits.  Here  is 
what  he  is  not,  "lam  not  as  other  men  are."  To 
entertain  a  bad  opinion  of  others  without  sufficient 
evidence  proves  more  thap  the  lack  of  the  charity 
which  hopeth  all  things,  and  believeth  all  things. 
Who  does  not  believe  others  virtuous  would  be  found, 
were  the  secrets  of  his  heart  and  life  known,  to  b6 
himself  vicious.  We  may  lay  it  down  as  an  axiom, 


THE   PHARISEE   AND   THE   PUBLICAN.  137 

that  those  who  are  ready  to  suspect  others  of  being 
actuated  by  a  regard  to  self-interest,  are  themselves 
seltuh.  Thieves  do  not  believe  in  the  existence  of 
honesty ;  nor  rakes  in  virtue ;  nor  mercenary  poli- 
ticians in  patriotism ;  and  the  reason  why  worldlings 
regard  religious  people  as  hypocrites  is  their  own 
want  of  religion — knowing  that  were  they  to  profess 
a  warm  regard  for  Christ,  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
salvation  of  souls,  they  would  be  hypocrites,  they  con- 
clude others  to  be  so.  Hence  also  you  find  many  nov- 
elists representing  every  man  into  whose  mouth  they 
put  the  language  of  piety  as  either  a  rogue  or  a  fool, 
most  commonly  a  rogue — a  very  unsound  but  not  un- 
natural conclusion  on  their  part ;  for  prejudices  re- 
semble the  fogs  that  turn  the  bright  sun  into  a  dull, 
copper  ball,  and  a  bad  heart  is  like  the  jaundice  that 
sees  its  own  dingy  yellow  in  the  purest  lily.  I  con- 
clude, therefore,  however  fair  the  whited  sepulchre 
looked,  that  in  his  heart  at  least  this  Pharisee  was, 
what  he  took  other  men  to  be — an  extortioner,  un- 
just, and  an  adulterer.  He  had  no  right  to  put  on 
such  airs,  or,  as  his  eye  fell  on  him,  to  make  a  foot- 
stool of  the  publican  to  stand  higher  before  God- 
saying  by  way  of  climax,  "nor  as  this  publican." 

In  this  proud,  arrogant  man  we  see  the  spirit  of 
self-righteousness  fully  developed.  Although  they 
may  not  come  out  so  prominently,  the  elements  of  his 
character  are  in  all  who  trust  in  themselves  for  sal- 
vation. May  God  enlighten  our  eyes,  show  us  our- 
selves !  For  who  knows  himself,  knowing  much  more 
ill  of  himself  than  he  can  of  any  one  else,  will  in« 
12* 


138  THE   PARABLES. 

dulge  in  no  such  proud,  and  self-complacent  and  odioua 
comparisons — his  prayer  will  be  that  of  David,  Enter 
not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant,  for  in  thy  sight 
shall  no  man  living  be  justified — his  language  that  of 
Job,  I  abhor  myself — his  confession,  Ezra's,  0  my 
God,  I  am  ashamed,  and  blush  to  lift  up  my  face  to 
thee,  my  God — and  glad  to  enter  heaven  at  the  back 
of  Manasseh,  or  the  woman  that  was  a  sinner,  or  the 
thief  of  the  cross,  he  will  leave  the  Pharisee  to  place 
himself  beside  the  publican,  and  catch  from  his  lips 
the  heartfelt  prayer,  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! 

THE    PUBLICAN. 

The  white  trimmings  on  a  coffin  catch  the  eye ;  and 
pure  as  it  seems  when,  falling  softly,  it  lies  level  on 
the  fields,  or  the  sport  of  wintry  winds,  has  been 
tossed  into  fantastic  wreaths,  snow  never  looks  so 
white  as  in  the  church-yard — beside  the  black  mould 
and  gaping  mouth  of  a  new-dug  grave.  Studying 
effect,  the  painter  and  orator  make  use  of  such  strong 
contrasts :  and  no  doubt  it  was  for  this  purpose  that 
the  Pharisee  dragged  the  publican  into  his  prayer, 
using  him  as  a  foil  to  set  off  himself — a  dark  and 
sombre  background  to  present  his  merits  in  a  more 
striking  light.  In  this,  "  He  made  a  pit  and  digged 
it,  and  is  fallen  into  the  ditch  which  he  made."  The 
Pharisee  becomes  a  background  to  set  off  the  publican ; 
and  never  did  humility  appear  more  beautiful  in  the 
eyes  of  God  and  man  than  here,  where  it  stands  con- 
trasted with  the  empty  vanity  and  haughty  arrogance 
01  ihis  inflated  Pharisee.  Tn  illustration  of  this,  observe 


THE   PHARISEE   AND  THE  PUBLICAN.  139 


THE    MANNER    OF   HIS    PRAYER. 

He  stood  afar  off. — Both  prayed  standing,  teaching 
us  that  that  attitude,  which  was  the  one  commonly  as- 
sumed by  the  Jews  in  the  temple,  is  one  which  we  may 
use  with  propriety  in  public  worship.  It  is  equally 
with  kneeling  an  attitude  of  worship — though  the  latter 
may  be  more  suitable  for  prayer  where  the  congre- 
gation stand  up  to  sing.  There  is  propriety,  but  there 
can  be  no  devotion  in  an  attitude.  Man  looketh  on  the 
outward  appearance,  but  God  looketh  on  the  heart; 
and  the  only  rule  applicable  to  such  matters  as  are 
not  the  weighty  matters  of  the  law,  is  to  assume 
the  attitude  which  rather  aids  than  hinders  devotion, 
and  avoid  that,  which,  acting  through  the  senses,  dis- 
turbs the  mind.  That  posture  is  the  best  which  least 
distracts  attention  by  a  feeling  of  bodily  weariness,  or 
otherwise  drags  our  thoughts  downward — hanging  like 
a  dead  weight  on  the  wings  of  prayer. 

But  while  both  stood,  the  publican  stood  afar  off,  as 
one  who  felt  himself  unworthy  to  enter  the  house  of 
God- — as  a  beggar  with  the  mud  of  the  road  on  his 
shoes  and  the  rags  of  poverty  on  his  back  might  hang 
about  the  door  of  a  lordly  hall,  and,  oppressed  with  a 
sense  of  his  meanness,  modestly  decline  the  invitation 
to  enter.  Men  often,  very  often,  speak  more  eloquently 
by  acts  than  words  ;  and  in  the  arrestment  of  his  steps, 
in  the  reverential  distance  at  which  he  stands,  the  poor 
publican  seems  to  say,  I  am  less  than  the  least  of  all 
thy  mercies.  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit !  It  is  to 
him  and  all  such  as  come  modestly  in  to  seat  them* 


140  THE   PARABLES. 

sehes  down,  if  I  may  say  so,  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
table,  that  the  Lord,  who  has  his  eye  on  them,  will 
send  the  message,  "  Come  ye  up  hither  !" — for,  while 
every  one  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased,  he  that 
humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted. 

He  would  not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  to  heaven. 
— The  Pharisee  looked  boldly  up.  Why  not  ?  There 
was  nothing  in  heaven's  cloudless  azure  purer  than 
himself.  No  doubt  the  angels  veil  their  faces  with 
their  wings;  but  there  is  no  brightness  in  God's  giory, 
sunlike,  to  dazzle  him — nor  awfulness  in  God's  ho- 
liness to  daunt  him.  Standing  to  God  in  the  relation 
of  a  creditor  rather  than  a  debtor,  why  should  he  be 
ashamed  to  look  him  in  the  face?  Fasting  twice  a 
week,  and  paying  tithes  of  all  that  he  possessed,  he 
has  not  overdrawn  but  overpaid  his  accounts — doing 
more  than  the  law  required.  Turn  now  to  the  publican, 
and  what  a  contrast !  There,  like  one  caught  in  some 
act  which  overwhelms  with  a  sense  of  shame,  and 
covers  the  cheek  with  burning  blushes,  he  stands  with 
his  head  bent  and  his  eyes  cast  on  the  ground.  Self- 
accused,  self-abased,  arid  self-condemned,  he  shrinks 
within  himself,  and  wonders  perhaps  that  the  very 
earth  does  not  open  its  mouth  to  swallow  him  up.  He 
does  not  dare  to  look  up.  But  though  his  eyes  are 
not  lifted  to  heaven,  his  heart  is ;  and,  while  he  seems 
ready  to  sink  to  the  ground,  his  soul  is  soaring  aloft 
on  the  wings  of  prayer,  upward  to  the  heaven  of 
heavens. 

He  smote  upon  his  breast. — The  hands  of  the  Pha- 
risee are  stretched  to  heaven  to  receive  the  roward  he 


THE   PHAKISEE   AND   THE   PUBLICAN.  141 

expects  at  God's.  There  he  stands,  proud  as  the  victor 
who,  covered  with  the  blood  of  a  hundred  battles  and 
the  laurels  of  a  hundred  victories,  only  bends  his  head 
to  receive  the  crown  from  a  king  whose  throne  and 
whose  country  his  valor  has  defended ;  and  from  whose 
hands  he  accepts  the  proudest  honor,  not  so  much  as  a 
matter  of  grace  as  of  right.  The  hands  of  the  pub- 
lican are  otherwise  employed — he  smote  upon  his 
breast.  By  this  action,  or  by  smiting  on  the  thigh, 
the  impassioned  natives  of  the  East  expressed  the 
deepest  sorrow.  But  these  sounding  blows  expressed 
more  than  sorrow.  They  said,  as  they  fell  thick  and 
heavy  on  his  bosom,  Here  lies  the  root  of  all  my  sins 
— 0,  this  hard,  foul,  wicked  heart ! — My  life  has  been 
bad,  but  it  has  been  worse — here  lies  the  inner  spring 
of  all  these  polluted  streams !  These  blows  were  inar- 
ticulate prayers.  They  sounded  forth  to  God's  ear 
such  wishes  as  these:  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  It  had  surely 
been  done ;  for  it  was  from  the  bosom  which  he  smote 
that  there  went  up  to  heaven,  like  an  arrow  from  the 
bow-string,  this  brief,  but  blessed  believing  prayer: 

GOD    BE   MERCIFUL   TO   ME   A    SINNEK. 

Earnestness  does  not  express  itself  in  long,  inflated, 
pompous  sentences.  It  is  brief;  it  is  simple.  The 
moment  has  arrived  when  victory,  long  doubtful  as  the 
tide  of  success  ebbed  and  flowed,  may  be  won  by  one 
splendid,  dashing,  daring  attack — the  order  is  given  in 
one  brief  word,  Charge  !  On  the  distant  waves  a  flag 
is  seen  now  sinking  in  the  trough  and  again  rising  on 


142  THE   PARABLES. 

the  crest  of  the  foaming  billows ;  and  beneath  that 
signal,  clinging  to  the  fragment  of  a  vessel  that  liea 
many  fathoms  down  in  the  depths  of  ocean,  are  two 
human  forms — and  all  the  cry  that  sounds  from  stem  to 
stern  is,  A  wreck,  a  wreck  !  and  all  the  order,  Lower 
the  boat ! — words  hardly  uttered  when  she  drops  on  the 
water,  and,  pulled  by  stout  rowers,  is  leaping  over  the 
waves  to*  the  rescue.  One  late  in  the  deserted  streets 
sees  the  smoke  creep,  and  the  flames  begin  to  flash  and 
flicker  from  a  house  whose  tenants  are  buried  in  sleep ; 
he  bounds  to  the  door  and  thunders  on  it — all  his  cry, 
Fire,  Fire  !  Peter  sinks  amid  the  boisterous  waves  of 
Galilee  and  all  the  prayer  of  lips  the  cold  water  kisses 
is,  as  he  stretches  out  his  hand  to  Jesus,  Save  me,  I 
perish  !  And  with  the  brief,  urgent,  earnestness  of  one 
who  seeing  his  danger,  knows  that  there  is  no  time, 
and  believing  in  God's  great  mercy,  feels  that  there  is 
no  need  for  long  prayers,  the  publican,  like  a  man  who 
in  falling  over  a  crag  catches  the  arm  of  a  friendly 
tree,  throws  his  whole  soul  into  this  cry,  these  few, 
blessed,  accepted  words,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a 


sinner 


Both  have  prayed,  and  our  Lord  tells  us  the  result. 
Insulting  to  God  and  man,  the  prayer  of  the  Pharisee, 
like  a  stone  cast  at  heaven,  falls  back  and  returns  to 
break  his  own  head — while  the  Publican's  ascends  like 
the  cloud  of  incense  that  floated  away  fragrant  and 
heavenward  from  the  morning  or  evening  sacrifice. 
Perfumed  with  a  Saviour's  merits,  it  is-  accepted  as  a 
sweet-smelling  savor,  and  sins  confessed  are  sins  for- 
given. Not  that  his  confession  and  sorrow  were  the 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  PUBLICAN.        143 

price  of  pardon ;  but  that,  feeling  undone  and  lost,  he 
cast  himself  on  divine  mercy,  and  so  became  a  par- 
taker of  the  righteousness  which  Jesus  Christ  has  pro- 
vided for  the  chief  of  sinners. 

Thus  he  went  down  to  his  house  "justified;"  and  so 
may  we  all — with  a  pardon  in  our  bosoms  and  the 
peace  of  God  in  our  hearts.  Ah,  that  were  the  hap- 
piest home-going  we  ever  made — sufficient  toHurn  the 
barest  hovel  into  a  palace,  and  impart  to  the  humblest 
fare  more  enjoyment  than  sumptuous  banquets  afford. 
Light  is  the  step  of  one  before  whom  the  prison  gates 
roll  open,  leaving  him  to  walk  forth  to  life  and  liberty. 
The  sun  never  shone  so  bright,  the  flowers  by  the  way- 
side never  looked  so  beautiful,  the  birds  in  sky  and 
merry  woodland  never  sang  so  sweet,  nor  did  love  to 
everything  ever  glow  and  burn  so  in  his  bosom,  as  now, 
when  taking  an  everlasting  leave  of  strong  jail  and 
gloomy  cell,  he  hastens  home  to  embrace  his  wife  and 
little  ones — goes  down  to  his  house  a  free,  pardoned, 
happy,  blessed,  man.  Yet  lighter  his  steps,  and  hap- 
pier his  heart,  who,  accepting  Christ  in  God's  house, 
goes  down  justified  to  his  own.  And  what  should 
hinder  us  ?  We  have  only  to  throw  away  all  confidence 
in  ourselves ;  and  with  confidence  throw  ourselves  at 
Jesus's  feet,  or  rather  into  his  open  arms,  on  his  lov- 
ing bosom — on  which,  when  the  work  of  our  oanc- 
tification  is  completed,  we  shall  be  borne  up  to  another 
and  a  better  house,  there  to  be  crowned  with  everlast- 
ing glory  and  dwell  forever  with  the  Lord.  Thus, 
while  casting  the  proud  down  into  hell  God  abases 
them,  he  will  exalt  the  humble — them,  and  them  only. 


144  THE   PAKABLE8. 

He  dwelleth  with  such  as  are  of  an  humble  and  contrite 
spirit ;  and  they  only  with  whom  he  dwells  on  earth, 
shall  dwell  with  him  in  heaven. 

I  cannot  close  these  observations  without  remarking 
that  the  Pharisees,  of  whom  the  man  before  us  is  a 
specimen,  have  furnished  the  world  with  a  term  where- 
with to  reproach  those  whose  religion  is  less  loose  than 
its  own.  Such  as  are  for  living  a  strict  and  pure  and 
holy  life,  who,  believing  that  no  man  on  his  death-bed 
ever  found  that  he  had  given  too  much  time  to  God 
and  Christ,  the  interest  of  his  soul,  and  that  eternal 
world  on  whose  verge  he  stands,  wish  the  Sabbath  day 
to  be  spent  in  the  public  or  private  exercises  of  God's 
worship,  such  as  seek  to  remove  all  temptations  to 
spend  it  otherwise — whether  in  the  form  of  theatres, 
or  museums,  public-gardens  or  public-houses,  such  men 
are  opprobriously  called  Pharisees.  Now,  not  to  say 
that  it  is  a  bad  cause  which  needs  to  be  supported  by 
calling  bad  names,  this  application  of  the  term  betrays, 
as  I  undertake  and  proceed  to  show,  the  grossrst  ig- 
norance. 

The  Pharisees  cared  nothing  for  the  poor.  Does 
this  character  apply  most  to  those  who  are  called 
Pharisees,  or  to  those  who  call  them  so?  Which  of 
these  two  classes  are  most  frequently  found  imparting 
both  material  and  spiritual  comforts  to  the  desolate 
abodes  of  poverty,  I  would  leave  the  poor  to  sar  It 
is  no  breach  of  charity  to  fancy  them  turning  from 
those  called  Pharisees  to  such  as  call  them  so,  to  fnv, 
"Jesus  we  know,  and  Paul  we  know — these  others  v« 
know — but  who  are  ye  ?" 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  PUBLK  'J..        145 

Again,  the  Pharisees,  devouring  widow/  houses, 
made  religion  a  mere  pretense  to  promote  their  own 
secular  and  selfish  ends.  Now  let  impartial  history 
say.  whether  in  the  dark  days  of  trial,  in  times  that 
demanded  a  noble  self-denial,  those  called  Pharisees, 
or  those  calling  them  so,  have  been  the  most  ready  to 
sacrifice  their  interests  to  their  religion,  their  place  to 
their  principles,  and  leave  father  and  mother,  wife  and 
children,  houses  and  lands,  to  take  up  their  cross  and 
follow  Christ. 

Again,  the  Pharisees  were  sensual  and  self-indulgent 
"They  bound,"  said  our  Lord,  "heavy  burdens,  and 
laid  them  on  men's  shoulders,  but  they  themselves 
would  not  move  them  with  one  of  their  fingers."  And 
do  those  whom  the  world  calls  Pharisees  ask  others  to 
make  efforts  on  behalf  of  humanity  or  of  religion, 
while  they  themselves  make  none  ?  Are  theirs  the 
names  you  miss  in  the  lists  of  public  charities  ?  Do 
they  bear  the  least  part  of  such  burdens  ?  I  venture  to 
affirm  the  contrary:  and  that,  were  their  support 
withdrawn,  many  of  our  philanthropic  and  religious 
schemes  would  tumble  into  ruins,  like  an  arch  de- 
prived of  its  piers. 

Again,  the  Pharisees  were  men  of  low  morale  ;  and 
therefore  our  Lord  said,  "Except  your  righteousness 
exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees, 
ye  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
Now  are  those  whom  the  world  reproaches  as  such, 
less  moral  than  those  who  reproach  them  ?  As  a  class, 
do  their  greater  sins  distinguish  them  from  others  as 
much  as  their  greater  professions  ?  In  the  upper  ranks 
13 


146  THE    PARABLES. 

of  society,  are  impurity  and  loose  morals  more  char- 
acteristic of  those  who  keep  the  Lord's  day  sacred, 
than  of  those  who  make  it  one  of  business  or  of  pleas- 
ure? and  among  the  lower  classes,  is  it  those  who 
resort  to  the  church  or  to  the  public  house  on  the  Sab- 
bath, who  supply  most  work  to  the  police  and  the 
greatest  number  of  tenants  to  the  prison  ? 

Again,  the  Pharisees  persecuted  piety,  and  hating 
Jesus  because  he  was  holier  than  they,  called  him  bad 
names,  imputed  to  him  bad  motives,  and  held  him  up 
to  public  scorn — charging  him  with  crimes  which  his 
soul  abhorred,  and  of  which  he  was  innocent  as  the 
babe  unborn.  Now  are  those  whom  the  world  calls 
Pharisees,  haters  of  serious  and  pure  religion  ?  Is  it 
their  pens  and  tongues  which  are  dipped  in  poison,  and 
employed  to  wound  Christ  in  his  members  ?  Are  they 
the  successors  of  the  men  who,  hating  religion  in  their 
hearts  and  feeling  that  Christ's  holy  and  unselfish  life 
condemned  theirs,  crowned  his  forehead  with  thorns, 
and  cried,  Away  with  him  to  the  cross  ? 

Again,  the  Pharisees  were'  a  self-righteous  class. 
They  trusted  to  their  own  works  for  salvation,  and 
were,  however  little  occasion  they  had  to  be  so,  re- 
markably well  pleased  with  themselves.  Puffed  up 
with  vanity,  they  thanked  God  that  they  were  not  as 
others  who  might  need  a  Saviour — they  did  not.  But 
whoever  found  these  to  be  the  features  of  such  as  the 
world  calls  Pharisees  ?  On  the  contrary,  is  not  Jesus 
Christ  and  him  crucified  the  very  centre  of  their  reli- 
gion— the  sun  of  their  sky — the  foundation  of  their 
most  precious  hopes  ?  Disclaiming  all  self-confidence 


THE    PHARISEE    AND   THE    PUBLICAN.  147 

and  merit  in  their  own  works,  may  not  their  creed  be 
summed  up  in  the  words  of  him  who  raised  himself  on 
his  dying  bed  to  exclaim  with  life's  latest  breath,  None 
but  Christ,  none  but  Christ !  Let  the  world  call  white 
black,  or  light  darkness,  or  sweet  bitter,  but  not  such 
men  Pharisees.  The  north  and  south  poles  are  not 
farther  asunder. 

Inapplicable  as  is  such  an  epithet  to  devout  Chris- 
tians, let  them  beware  how  they  furnish  any,  the  least 
occasion  for  others  using  it  by  any  inconsistency  be- 
tween their  profession  and  their  practice — by  magni- 
fying little  things  and  overlooking  the  weightier  mat- 
ters of  the  law — by  straining  at  a  gnat,  and  swallow- 
ing a  camel.  Never  overlook  the  difference  between 
what  is  vital  in  divine  truth  and  what  is  indifferent  in 
human  forms.  Never  mistake  the  dead  robes  for  the 
living  body  of  religion.  Never  forget  that  "  to  do 
justly  and  love  mercy  and  walk  humbly  before  God," 
is  what  the  Lord  requires  of  thee ;  that  faith  without 
works  is  dead ;  that  form  without  spirit  is  dead ;  and 
that,  the  highest  piety 'being  ever  associated  with  the 
deepest  humility,  true  religion  is  like  that  sweetest  of 
all  singing-birds,  the  skylark,  which  with  the  lowest 
nest  but  highest  wing  dwells  on  the  ground,  and  yet 
soars  to  the  skies. 


vn. 

f  \t  farabl*  0f  %  p 

Matthew  xiii.  44. 

ONE  of  the  most  beautiful  legends  of  old  times  is 
that  of  the  Golden  Age.  As  sung  by  the  heathen 
poets,  this  once  was  a  happy  world  ;  its  earliest  periods 
being  like  the  bright  dawn  of  a  dark  and  cloudy  day ; 
cheerful  and  happy,  as  the  infancy  of  a  life  which 
afterwards  grows  beset  with  troubles  and  stained  by 
crime.  In  these  days,  envy  and  strife  and  war  were 
unknown ;  the  habits  of  men  were  simple,  their  wants 
were  few,  their  lives  were  virtuous :  no  slaves  toiled  in 
chains,  nor  captives  pined  in  dungeons,  nor  bloody  ty- 
rants reigned  on  thrones ;  plenty  filled  every  cup  to 
the  brim,  and  peace,  unbroken  by  the  strife  of  tongues 
or  clash  of  arms,  brooded  on  every  shore.  In  contrast 
with  those  which  followed  them  and  went  by  the  name 
of  the  Iron,  these  happy  times  were  called  the  Golden 
Age.  No  poet's  dream,  this,  like  many  other  legends 
preserved  in  ancient  song,  is  a  fragment  of  true  his- 
tory, and  one  in  which  it  is  not  difficult  to  recognize  a 
tradition  of  Eden,  and  of  man's  early  innocence — 
changed,  no  doubt,  from  its  original  form,  as  like  a 
13*  (149) 


150  THE    PARABLES. 

stone  in  the  bed  of  a  river,  it  has  come  rolling  down 

y  O 

the  long  and  turbulent  stream  of  time. 

Literally,  as  well  as  figuratively,  the  earliest  peri- 
.  is  of  the  world  were  the  Golden  Age  :  for  the  discov- 
f  ries  of  archaeologists  show  that  man's  acquaintance 
with  the  metals  began  with  gold  and  silver.  Long  ere 
he  had  forged  iron  into  sword  or  plowshare,  sheathed 
his  ships  with  copper,  covered  his  bull's-hide  shield 
with  brass,  or  cast  lead  either  into  pipes  to  convey 
water  or  into  bullets  to  carry  death,  with  no  palace 
other  than  a  hut,  and  no  throne  other  than  a  stone, 
kings  wore  crowns  of  gold ;  while  women,  attired  in 
wolf's  skin,  danced  on  the  green  with  golden  orna- 
ments tinkling  on  their  naked  ankles.  It  was  so  in 
this  island  among  the  brave  and  hardy  savages  from 
whom  we  trace  our  descent.  It  was  much  more  so  in 
sunnier  and  richer  lands.  At  the  invasion  of  Peru,  for 
instance,  Pizarro  and  Jiis  Spaniards  found  the  interior 
of  the  king's  palaces  adorned  with  the  finest  and  most 
costly  materials ;  the  sides  of  the  apartments  were 
studded  with  gold  and  silver  ornaments ;  their  niches 
were  filled  with  images  of  plants  and  animals  made  of 
the  sane  precious  metals ;  and  even  much  of  the  do- 
mestic furniture  displayed  the  like  wanton  magnificence. 
The  Temple  of  the  Sun  shone  with  something  of  his 
own  dazzling  splendor.  Every  part  of  its  interior  was 
richly  ornamented :  on  the  eastern  wall,  and  so  situated 
that  at  his  rising  the  rays  of  the  sun  struck  directly  on 
it,  was  a  figure  of  their  god,  engraved  on  a  golden  plate 
of  massive  dimensions,  and  studded  all  over  with  eme- 
ralds and  precious  stones ;  nor  was  there  in  that  vast 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  HID  TREASURE.       151 

and  splendid  edifice  any  utensil  whatever  that  was  not 
made  of  gold  or  silver.  Besides  this,  there  were  a  hun- 
dred inferior  temples  in  the  Holy  City,  and  many  in 
the  provinces,  that  almost  rivaled  in  magnificence  that 
of  the  metropolis.  Historians  also  mention,  that  even 
the  pipes  which  conveyed,  and  the  fountains  that  con- 
tained, water  in  the  garden  of  the  summer  palace  of  the 
Incas  were  of  silver  ;  and  that  one  ornament  of  this 
fairy-like  retreat  consisted  in  full-sized  imitations  of 
foreign  plants,  with  stalks  of  silver,  and  leaves  of  gold. 

Where  are  these  treasures  now — the  gold  and  silver 
of  the  world's  departed  empires,  of  such  kings  as  Solo- 
mon, the  Pharaohs  of  Egypt,  the  Caesars  of  Rome,  the 
mighty  satraps  and  sultans  of  the  East  ?  They  have 
vanished,  not  perished;  for,  while  silver  resists  the 
influences  that  tarnish  the  baser  metals,  gold  is  abso- 
lutely indestructible — resisting  the  action  of  fire  itself. 
Expose  water  to  fire,  and  it  dissolves  in  vapor ;  wood, 
and  it  vanishes  in  smoke  and  flame,  leaving  but  gray 
ashes  behind ;  iron,  and  it  is  converted  into  rust : — but 
fire  may  play  on  gold  for  a  thousand  years  without 
depriving  it  of  a  degree  of  its  lustre  or  an  atom  of  its 
weight.  Beautiful  emblem  of  the  saints  of  God,  gold 
cannot  perish — their  trials,  like  the  action  of  fire  on 
this  precious  metal,  but  purifying  what  they  cannot 
destroy. 

The  disappearance  of  the  old  world's  treasures  finds 
its  explanation  in  the  custom  to  which  the  man  of  this 
parable  owed  his  fortune.  In  ancient  times  there  waa 
little  trade  in  which  men  could  embark,  and  there  were 
no  banks  in  which  they  could  lodge  their  money. 


152  THE   PARABLES. 

And  as  secrecy  offered  them  the  best,  if  not  only, 
security,  it  was  common  for  people,  while  reserving  a 
portion  for  ordinary  use,  to  hide  their  gold  and  silver 
in  the  ground ;  and  it  often  happened,  through  sudden 
death  or  otherwise,  that  the  treasure  was  left  there, 
their  secret  being  buried  with  them.  Besides  this,  old 
times  were  unsettled.  A  country  was  suddenly  inva- 
ded,— to  preserve  their  valuables  from  the  hand  of  the 
spoiler,  the  inhabitants  buried  them  in  the  earth :  fall- 
ing in  battle  or  dying  in  exile,  they  never  returned  to 
claim  them ;  and  thus  the  earth  became  a  bank  in 
which  was  accumulated  during  the  course  of  ages,  a 
vast  amount  of  unclaimed  deposits.  Even  in  our  coun- 
try, though  scantily  supplied  with  the  precious  metals, 
the  spade  that  digs  the  railway,  the  plow  that  breaks 
up  some  waste  moorland,  is  ever  and  anon .  bringing 
jid  coins  to  light,  or  still  older  ornaments  of  gold  and 
silver.  And,  since  the  lands  of  the  Bible  were  much 
richer  than  ours,  and  had  accumulated  vast  stores  of 
wealth  at  a  period  when  our  forefathers  were  naked 
savages,  nothing  was  more  likely  to  happen  in  these 
countries  than  the  circumstance  which  forms  the 
groundwork  of  this  parable. 

A  peasant  goes  out  to  plow.  The  ground  has  lain 
undisturbed,  perhaps  for  centuries  ;  or,  in  order  to 
recruit  an  exhausted  soil  with  virgin  earth,  he  sends 
his  share  deep  into  its  bosom.  Suddenly,  as  he  whis- 
tles carelessly  behind  his  oxen,  he  is  startled  b^  the  ring 
of  metal ;  and  on  turning  his  head,  how  he  stares  to 
Bee  the  black  furrow  yellow  with  scattered  gold,  and 
sparkling  in  the  sun  with  jewels  !  The  plow  is  uban- 


THK  PARABLE  OF  THE  HID  TREASURE.      153 

doned ;  he  drops  on  his  knees  ; — happy  man  !  he  has 
lighted  on  an  old  hid  treasure,  and  has  a  fortune  within 
his  grasp.  Restoring  the  treasure  to  its  place,  he  con- 
ceals with  care  all  traces  of  the  discovery,  and,  mask- 
ing his  joy  under  an  air  of  indifference,  hastens  home- 
ward. To  the  amazement  of  his  neighbors,  who  pity 
him  as  moonstruck  or  mad,  he  sells  his  house,  his  fur- 
niture, his  bed,  and  pulling  the  beds  out  from  beneath 
his  sleeping  children,  sells  them — parting  with  all  he 
has  in  the  world.  He  is  not  mad,  though  men  think 
so — not  he.  He  knows  what  he  is  about.  Making 
what  others  reckon  a  bad  bargain,  he  purchases  the 
field  in  question :  and  ere  the  villagers  have  recovered 
from  their  surprise,  their  astonishment  at  his  folly 
changes  to  envy  of  his  fortune.  Possessor  of  an  enor- 
mous treasure,  he  has  exchanged  a  hard,  humble,  toil- 
ing life  for  the  respect  and  ease,  the  comforts  and  lux- 
uries, which  are  the  eager  desire  of  all  and  the  happy 
lot  of  few. 

Such  is  the  incident  which  forms  the  groundwork  of 
a  parable  where 

THE   BLESSINGS   OF   THE    GOSPEL  ARE    COMPARED   TO   A 

TREASURE. 

In  a  world  which  looks  down  on  poverty,  where  beg" 
gars  are  counted  offscourings,  and  the  respect  is  often 
paid  to  wealth  that  is  due  only  to  worth,  a  considerable 
fortune  will  secure  its  possessor  from  contempt,  and  a 
splendid  one  secure  his  introduction  to  the  proudest 
circles  of  the  land.  Yet  how  much  higher  are  the  re- 
gards which  the  treasures  of  the  Gospel  secure  to  him 


154  THE   PARABLES. 

who,  though  poor  in  this  world's  goods,  is  rich  in  faith  ! 
Lifting  "  the  poor  from  the  dust,  and  the  needy  from 
the  dunghill  to  set  him  with  princes,"  they  introduce 
him  to  the  presence  of  the  Divine  Majesty  and  the 
palace  of  the  Great  King — to  the  society  of  angels  and 
the  communion  of  saints — to  the  general  assembly  of 
those  high-born  and  first-born,  compared  with  whom  in 
point  of  worth,  or  dignity,  or  lofty  and  enduring  glory, 
your  kings  are  but  worms  of  the  dust. 

Again,  if  wealthy,  you  may  reside  in  a  splendid  man- 
°ion,  but  it  is  to  leave  it  one  day  for  the  narrow  house  ; 
you  may  pamper  the  body  with  the  costliest  luxuries, 
but  you  are  fattening  it  for  worms  ;  nor  can  the  flash- 
ing blaze  of  a  thousand  diamonds  blind  our  eyes  to  the 
melancholy  fact  that  this  gay,  beautiful,  charming  form 
shall,  stripped  of  all  that  bravery,  be  wrapped  in  a 
shroud,  nailed  up  in  a  coffin,  and  thrust  down  into  a 
black  hole  to  rot.  But  give  me  the  treasures  of  re- 
demption, my  food  is  manna,  and  my  wine  is  love ;  my 
sweet  pillow  the  bosom  of  the  Son  and  my  strong 
defence  the  arm  of  Almighty  God ;  my  home  that 
palace,  eternal  in  the  heavens,  where  angels'  harps 
supply  the  music,  and  woven  of  Jesus'  righteousness 
the  robes  are  fairer  than  angels  wear.  Again,  the 
bankrupt  who  succeeds  to  a  fortune  is  placed  in  cir- 
cumstances to  pay  his  debts.  Is  there  a  stain  on  his 
honor,  he  wipes  it  out ;  if  none,  he  relieves  himself  of 
a  load  which  lies  heavy  on  the  heart  of  an  honorable 
man.  Henceforth  he  neither  fears  to  examine  his 
accounts  nor  look  all  men  in  the  face  :  and  on  the  day 
when  he  summons  his  creditors  to  pay  his  debts  in  full, 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  HID  TREASURE.      155 

he  is  esteemed  a  happy,  applauded  and  feted  as  an  hon- 
orable, man.  But  possessed  of  the  treasures  of  the 
gospel,  I  pay  debts  whose  sum  no  figures  can  express, 
nor  long  ages  in  Hell  atone  for ;  with  Jesus'  infinite 
merits  I  pay  God  all  his  claims;  and  obtaining  a  full 
discharge  from  the  hands  of  Eternal  Justice  in  the 
High  Court  of  Heaven,  I  lift  up  my  head,  not  only 
before  men  but  before  angels ;  not  only  in  the  pres- 
ence of  holy  angels  but  of  a  holy  God*  and  locking 
round  on  conscience  and  the  Law,  on  Death  and  the 
Devil,  challenge  them  all,  saying,  "  It  is  God  that  justi- 
fieth,  who  is  he  that  condemneth  ?" 

A  treasure  !  So  men  speak  of  the  child  who,  like 
a  beautiful  flower  with  a  worm  at  its  root,  may  droop 
and  die  ; — of  fame  won  on  a  stage,  where  the  spectators 
who  applaud  to-night  may  hiss  to-morrow;  of  riches 
that,  like  scared  wild  fowl  on  the  reedy  margin  of  a 
lake,  take  to  themselves  wings  and  fly  away.  But 
how  much  worthier  of  the  name  the  Friend  who  never 
leaves  us  ;  health  that  sickens  not,  and  life  that  dies 
not ;  love  that  never  cools,  and  glory  that  never  fades  ; 
a  peace  that  troubles  may  disturb  but  do  not  destroy — 
being  to  it  but  the  raging  tempest  that  shakes  the 
arms  of  a  tree  which  it  cannot  uproot ;  the  swelling, 
foaming,  angry  billows  that  toss  the  bark  which,  se- 
curely anchored,  they  cannot  part  from  its  moorings 
nor  dash  on  the  surf-beaten  shore ! 

The  unspeakable  value  of  those  blessings  of  divine 
mercy,  pardon,  peace,  and  grace  represented  by  this 
treasure  may  be  tested  in  a  simple  way.  In  London, 
within  whose  heart  there  is  gold  in  more  senses  of  the 


156  THE   PARABLES 

expression  than  one,  stands  a  building  with  armed  sen* 
tinels  by  its  door,  and  at  its  table  directors  with  the 
fate  of  empires,  with  war  or  peace,  want  or  plenty,  in 
their  hands.  Entering  by  the  guarded  portal,  and 
passing  through  the  bustle  of  a  crowded  hall  where 
Mammon  sits  enthroned,  and  gold  coins  are  tossed 
about  like  pebbles,  and  silver,  as  in  the  days  of  Solo- 
mon, seems  nothing  accounted  of,  you  descend,  by 
strongly  protected  passages,  to  a  room  whose  walls, 
divided  into  compartments,  are  formed  of  massive  iron. 
Around  you  there  are  heaped,  pile  on  pile,  not  thou- 
sands, but  millions  of  money— the  wealth  of  a  great 
nation — the  price  of  crowns  and  kingdoms.  You  are 
in  the  strong  room  of  the  Bank  of  England,  one  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world.  Now,  from  his  loom  where  the 
shuttle  flies  from  early  morn  into  the  night,  take  a 
poor,  pale-faced,  but  pious  weaver ; — from  the  dark 
mine,  where  any  moment  he  may  be  drowned  by  water, 
blasted  by  fire,  suffocated  in  the  choke-damp,  or  buried 
beneath  falling  rocks  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  take 
a  poor  begrimed,  but  pious  pitman — and  placing  either 
in  that  room,  offer  him  all  its  treasures  on  condition 
that  he  parts  with  that  in  his  bosom  !  He  would  spurn 
the  glittering  bribe,  saying  as  he  returned  to  bless  God 
for  his  brown  bread  and  lowly  home,  "  Get  thee  behind 
mg,  Satan;"  or,  "  Thy  money  perish  with  thee!" 
With  this  blood-bought  treasure  he  will  rather  die  than 
part,  saying,  "  It  cannot  be  gotten  for  gold,  neither 
shall  silver  be  weighed  for  the  price  thereof;  the  gold 
and  the  crystal  cannot  equal  it,  and  the  exchange  of  it 
shall  not  be  for  jewels  of  pure  gold  ;  no  mention  shall 


THE    J'AIUULK    Ol    THE    11ID    TREASURE.  157 

be  made  of  coral  or  of  pearls,  for  the  price  of  it  ia 
above  rubies." 

THE    BLESSINGS   OF   THE  GOSPEL   ARE   COMPARED   TO   A 
HID   TREASURE. 

The  discovery  of  gold  some  years  ago  in  our  most 
distant  colony  agitated  the  whole  kingdom  ;  and  as  the 
news  spread,  thousands,  breaking  the  ties  which  bound 
them  to  home,  hurried  away  to  the  seaports,  where 
crowded  ships  bore  off  the  adventurers — all  eagerly 
striving  under  press  of  sail  which  should  first  touch  the 
happy  strand.  The  voyage  ended,  our  countrymen 
threw  themselves  on  the  gold  fields ;  and  soon  the 
lonely  dells  of  Australia,  with  emigrants  from  all  lands, 
rang  with  the  sounds  of  labor  and  a  Babel  of  tongues. 
Yet  long  years  before  its  treasures  were  brought  to 
light,  shepherds  had  left  our  hills  to  herd  the  flock  on 
Australia's  boundless  pastures  :  the  hut  of  the  squatter 
had  encroached  on  the  hunting-grounds,  and  his  axe 
had  sounded  in  the  forests  of  the  wondering  savage ; 
and  there,  earning  only  a  bare  subsistence,  far  removed 
from  the  homes  and  friends  of  their  love,  without  hope 
of  improving  their  condition  or  returning  with  a  fortune, 
many  had  pined  and  drooped — like  a  flower  removed 
from  its  native  to  an  uncongenial  soil.  Yet  all  the 
while  a  fortune  lay  hid  beneath  the  exile's  feet ;  the 
roots  of  the  tree  under  whose  shadow  he  reclined, 
recalling  scenes  and  friends  far  away,  were  matting 
rocks  of  gold ;  and  from  the  bed  of  the  stream  where 
he  quenched  his  thirst,  thousands,  with  thirst  for  gold 
burning  as  his,  came  afterwards  to  draw  splendid  for- 
14 


158  THE    PARABLES. 

tunes, — vaulting  at  once  from  abject  poverty  to  the 
heights  of  affluence.  He  lived  poor  in  the  midst  of 
riches ;  and  daily  walking  above  wealth  that  had  made 
him  independent  of  labor,  he  sank,  exhausted  by  toil 
and  care  and  sad  regrets,  into  an  early  and  lonely 
grave.  Such  fate  befell  many  a  one,  with  gold  enough 
in  the  stones  that  formed  his  rude  hearth,  or  in  the 
rock  against  which  his  log-hut  stood,  to  surround  him 
with  the  splendors  of  a  brilliant  fortune. 

Now  that  poor  man,  with  his  ragged  tent  pitched  on 
a  gold  field,  but  ignorant  of  the  treasure  which  he 
might  have  possessed  and  enjoyed,  is  the  type  and 
image  of  thousands.  The  treasures  of  the  Gospel,  they, 
as  he  had  those  of  gold,  have  and  yet  have  not.  They 
are  hid  from  them.  Their  minds,  as  Paul  says,  are 
blinded — "  The  God  of  this  world  hath  blinded  the 
minds  of  them  which  believe  not." — "  The  natural  man 
receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  they 
are  foolishness  unto  him ;  neither  can  he  know  them, 
because  they  are  spiritually  discerned."  Were  God  to 
make  these  treasures  as  plain  to  men  as  the  plowshare 
did  this  to  the  peasant's  wondering,  rejoicing,  spark- 
ling eyes,  they  would  leave  the  house  of  God  for  their 
homes  happier  far  than  he.  What  is  gold  to  these  ? 
Within  the  two  boards  of  the  poor  man's  Bible  is  a 
greater  wealth  of  happiness,  of  honor,  of  pleasure,  of 
true  peace,  than  Australia  hides  in  the  gold  of  all  her 
mines.  That,  for  example,  could  not  buy  the  pardon 
of  any  of  the  thousand  criminals  whom  a  country, 
weary  of  their  crimes,  once  cast  on  her  distant  shores  ; 
but  here  is  what  satisfies  a  justice  stricter  than  man's, 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  HID  TREASURE.      159 

and  procures  the  forgiveness  of  sins  which  the  stoutest 
heart  may  tremble  to  think  of.  Again,  the  wealth  of 
the  most  successful  adventurer  cannot  conceal  the 
meanness  of  his  birth,  give  polish  to  his  manners,  or 
raise  him  to  a  level  with  an  ancient  and  jealous  nobility : 
it  alters  the  condition,  but  not  the  character  of  the 
man  ;  and  associated  with  ignorance,  meanness,  vul- 
garity, is,  to  use  the  figure  of  the  wise  man,  only  as 
"  a  jewel  in  a  swine's  snout."  But,  accompanied  with 
the  blessing  from  on  high  and  received  into  the  heart 
by  faith,  the  Gospel  alters  both  our  character  and  con- 
dition— making  the  rude  gentle,  the  coarse  refined,  the 
impure  holy,  the  selfish  generous — working  a  greater 
transformation  than  if  a  felon  of  the  prison  were  to 
change  into  a  courtier  of  the  palace,  or  the  once  ragged 
boy  who  had  been  educated  to  crime  on  the  streets 
were  to  wear  a  star  on  his  manly  breast  and  stand  in 
the  brilliant  circle  that  surrounds  a  throne.  In  the 
blood  of  Christ  to  wash  out  sin's  darkest  stains,  in  the 
grace  of  God  to  purify  the  foulest  heart,  in  peace  lo 
calm  life's  roughest  storms,  in  hopes  to  cheer  guilt's 
darkest  hour,  in  a  courage  that  defies  death  and  de- 
scends calmly  into  the  tomb,  in  that  which  makes  the 
poorest  rich  and  without  which  the  richest  are  poor 
indeed,  the  Gospel 

has  treasures  greater  far 


Than  east  or  west  unfold, 

And  its  rewards  more  precious  are 
Than  all  their  stores  of  gold. 


160  THE    PARABLES. 


THE   TREASURE   WAS   FOUND   WITHOU1     BEING    SOUGHT. 

Each  spring  which  by  the  voices  of  birds  breaking 
the  long  winter  silence,  reminds  us  that  other  voices, 
now  mute,  shall  wake  again,  and  by  the  flowers  on  the 
green  sod  above  our  dead,  reminds  us  that  they  also 
shall  rise  again — beautiful  from  dust,  immortal  from 
the  bed  of  mortality,  is  emblematical  of  conversion  as 
well  as  of  resurrection.  It  is  Christ's  own  voice  speak- 
ing through  the  Spirit  to  souls  for  love  of  whom  he 
left  the  skies,  Avhich  I  recognize  in  this  beautiful  and 
tender  address,  "Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and 
come  away.  For,  lo,  the  winter  is  past ;  the  rain  is 
over  and  gone ;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth  ;  the 
time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come ;  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  is  heard  in  the  land ;  the  fig-tree  putteth  forth 
her  green  figs :  and  the  vines  with  the  tender  grape 
give  a  smell.  Arise,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come 
away."  In  new  life,  life  as  from  the  dead,  in  songs  of 
love,  smiling  skies  and  balmy  air,  budding  woods  and 
fields  which  hold  the  seeds  of  future,  golden,  bountiful 
harvests,  the  spring  is  an  emblem  worthy  of  conver- 
sion— the  fitting  dress  of  so  great  an  event. 

Besides,  both  in  trees  and  flowers  the  spring  presents 
remarkable  illustrations  of  that  variety  with  which 
God  is  pleased  to  work  in  saving  souls,  and  turning 
sinners  from  the  error  of  their  ways.  All  his  people 
are  converted  ;  must  be  so — for  our  Lord  says,  "  Ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom 
of  God."  But  all  are  not  converted  in  the  selfsame 
manner ;  and  there  are  in  grace,  as  in  nature,  to  use 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  HID  TREASURE.      161 

Paul's  words,  "  diversities  of  operations,  but  it  is  the 
same  God  which  worketh  all  in  all."  For  example, 
the  leaves  of  roses,  of  tulips,  and  of  our  orchard  fruit- 
trees  appear  first — preparing  the  way  for  flowers  still 
in  the  bud.  In  other  cases  this  order  is  reversed.  In 
the  catkins  of  the  hoary  willow  hung  on  naked  stems, 
in  the  gold  and  silver  cups  of  the  crocus,  whether  they 
spring  from  the  grass  of  Alpine  meadows  or  edge  our 
parterres  with  a  beautiful  border,  the  flowers  precede 
the  leaves — these  plants,  like  a  day  unheralded  by  a 
dawn,  burst  into  blossom  without  any  apparent  prepa- 
ration. Even  so,  while  some  after  a  long  search  for 
true  happiness  and  their  souls'  good,  in  fulfillment  of 
the  promise,  "seek  and  ye  shall  find,"  get  in  Jesus 
Christ  the  treasure  of  this  parable  and  the  pearl  of  the 
next,  others  find  a  Saviour  without  seeking  him.  They 
burst  at  once  into  a  state  of  grace  ;  and  without  seek- 
ing, or  so  much  as  thinking  of  it,  they  stumble  on  sal- 
vation, if  I  may  say  so,  as  this  man  on  the  treasure 
hid  in  the  field.  They  are  converted,  and  it  is  a  great 
surprise  to  them — what  neither  they  nor  any  one  else 
expected. 

Ambitious  of  riches  and  yet  averse  to  work,  men 
have  resorted  to  necromancy  to  discover  hidden  treas- 
ures, digging  for  them  in  fields  and  amid  hoary  ruins. 
The  man  whose  good-fortune  is  recorded  here  was 
otherwise  employed.  Bred  up  in  poverty,  and  satisfied 
with  his  lot — the  robust  health  of  out-door  occupation, 
an  appetite  that  gave  zest  to  the  plainest  fare,  the 
lively  prattle  of  his  children  when  he  came  home  at 
even,  he  thought  no  more  of  riches  than  some  of  con- 
14* 


162  THE    PARABLES, 

version,  who,  suddenly  changed,  rise  in  the  morning  in 
a  state  of  nature  and  close  the  day  in  a  state  of  grace. 
His  good-fortune,  if  I  may  say  so,  was  an  accident — 
the  merest  accident;  and  thereby  distinguished  from 
the  case  of  him  who  found  the  pearl  of  great  price. 
He,  a  merchant  seeking  goodly  pearls,  found  what  he 
sought ;  but  this  man  what  he  was  not  seeking,  nor 
even  so  much  as  thinking  of. 

Equally  different  are  the  cases  of  those  whom  a  God, 
sovereign  in  working  as  he  is  great  in  mercy,  converts 
to  a  saving  knowledge  of  the  truth.  For  example, 
Nicodemus,  who  repaired  to  Christ  under  the  cloud  of 
night,  was  one  seeking  goodly  pearls  ;  so  also  was  the 
centurion,  who  "  was  a  just  man  and  one  that  feared 
God,"  and  to  whom  Peter  was  sent  with  the  tidings  of 
a  Saviour ;  and  so  in  some  sense  also  was  that  un- 
happy youth  who  with  more  courage  than  Nicodemus 
came  in  open  day,  and  pushing  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  thus  accosted  our  Lord,  "  Good  master,  what 
shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life  ?" — only  when  Jesus 
told  him  to  sell  all,  give  the  price  to  the  poor,  and 
follow  him,  he  judged  the  terms  too  hard,  the  cost  too 
great.  Like  many  others  he  sought  the  pearl  but  dis- 
liked the  price.  On  the  other  hand,  showing  that 
God  will  have  mercy  on  whom  he  will  have  mercy,  and 
that  salvation  is  of  grace  and  not  of  merit,  he  sometimp-s 
bestows  it  where  it  has  never  been  sought ;  and  a 
change  comes  as  unlocked  for  as  in  the  case  of  Saul, 
the  son  of  Kish — leaving  home  to  seek  his  father's 
asses  he  found  a  crown  on  the  road,  and  he  who  went 
out  a  commoner  came  back  a  king.  Look,  for  instance, 


THE    PAKABLE    OP   THE    HID   TREASURE.  163 

at  the  case  of  Zaccheus !  Curiosity  to  see  Jesus 
draws  him  from  the  receipt  of  custom  ;  and  leaving  his 
books  and  money  bags — for  he  was  rich,  he  throws 
himself  into  the  crowd.  In  vain  the  little  publican 
stands  on  tip-toe.  He  can  see  nothing.  Leaving  the 
throng  behind,  he  hies  away ;  and  climbing  a  friendly 
sycamore  that  threw  its  branches  over  the  road,  he 
perches  himself  on  a  bough,  proud  of  his  ingenuity  and 
congratulating  himself  on  the  excellent  view  he  will 
command  as  Jesus  passes — borne  along  on  the  crest  of 
popular  favor.  His  curiosity  once  gratified,  he  has  no. 
purpose  other  than  of  returning  to  his  old  habits  and 
resuming  the  pursuit  of  gain.  What  he  sought  he 
found ;  but  more,  in  that,  besides  a  sight  of  the  Sa- 
viour, he  obtained  a  hold  of  salvation.  Jesus,  as  he 
passed  by,  looked  up,  and  calling  him  down,  invited 
himself  to  his  house ;  and  ere  nightfall  there  was  a 
greater  transformation  wrought  on  that  poor  worldling 
than  appears  in  the  insect  which  lies  coffined  in  the 
morning  within  its  narrow  cell,  and  ere  sunset  is  roam- 
ing on  wide-spread  wings  from  flower  to  flower — its  bed 
their  cups,  its  food  their  honied  nectar.  Another 
instance  of  people  obtaining  salvation  who  were  not 
seeking  it,  is  found  in  that  Samaritan  who  after  long 
years  of  sin,  is  sitting  crowned  like  a  queen  in  heaven. 
With  pitcher  poised  on  her  head,  she  leaves  her  village 
to  draw  water, — having  no  other  purpose  than  to  pre- 
pare a  meal  for  her  paramour  on  his  return  from  the 
labors  of  the  day.  Shading  her  eyes  from  the  glare 
of  the  sun,  she  descries  a  lone  traveler  resting  on 
Jacob's  well.  The  man  and  she  meet ;  they  converse ; 


164  THE   PARABLES. 

and  she  who  had  approached  the  well  with  the  slow 
step  and  graceful  carriage  of  Eastern  women,  leaving 
both  it  and  her  pitcher,  hurries  back  with  eager  eyea 
and  flying  feet.  What  has  happened  ?  She  has  found 
her  Saviour — found,  as  she  said,  "  the  Christ ;"  and  at 
the  news  the  whole  village, — mothers  with  infants  at 
the  breast  and  old  age  bending  on  its  staff, — leave 
looms  silent  and  streets  deserted  to  see  Jesus. 

Even  so,  it  may  happen  that  some  who  repair  to  the 
house  of  God  without  any  expectation  or  even  wish  to 
be  converted,  and  with  no  better  purpose  than  to  see 
'or  be  seen,  may  there  behold  a  sight  they  never  ex- 
pected, and  meet  one  whom  they  looked  not  for. 
Drawn  to  the  church  only  by  curiosity  to  hear  some 
preacher,  they  may,  Zaccheus-like,  receive  a  call  from 
the  preacher's  master ;  and  so  the  scene  of  an  idle 
curiosity  may  be  turned  into  that  of  a  true  conversion. 
There  are  some  cases  in  which  God  has  made  even  the 
wrath  of  man  to  praise  him — those  who  went  to  mock 
having  stayed  to  pray.  Let  me  give  an  example.  A 
stranger  to  the  congregation  was  one  day  preaching  in 
a  church  in  England.  He  wound  up  an  impressive 
sermon  by  telling  them  that,  some  twenty  years  before, 
three  bad  young  men  had  entered  that  very  house  with 
the  intention  of  stoning  the  minister.  Something,  a 
look  or  word  from  the  preacher,  led  one  of  the  three 
to  hesitate.  In  consequence  of  this  the  plot  was  aban- 
doned :  and  while  his  associates  who  were  angry  with 
him  for  his  pusillanimity  left  the  scene,  he  lingered 
behind  from  no  other  motive  than  curiosity.  The 
preacher  went  on  to  tell  how  one  of  the  two  who  left 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  HI!)  TREASURE.       165 

was,  some  few  years  afterwards,  guilty  of  a  horrid 
murder,  and  hanged  for  it ;  and  how  the  other  also  for 
some  other  crime  ended  his  life  on  the  gallows.  As  to 
the  third  who  stayed  behind,  strange  to  say,  he  was 
converted  on  that  occasion,  and  afterwards  became  a 
minister  of  the  gospel ;  and,  the  preacher  added,  his 
voice  trembling  the  while  with  ill-suppressed  emotion, 
He  now  addresses  you  in  me — a  monument  of  the  grace 
of  God,  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning.  And  since, 
as  that  case  proves,  God's  grace  is  sovereign,  and  Jesus 
is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow,  of  whom 
may  we  not  hope  ?  The  pardon  of  all  our  sins  through 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  the  sanctifying  influ- 
ences of  his  Holy  Spirit,  glory  for  a  crown  and  heaven 
for  a  home,  these,  like  the  treasures  which  the  plow- 
share brought  to  light,  lie  at  our  feet.  They  are 
within  our  reach.  And  why,  if  yet  poor  and  misera- 
ble, with  no  better  portion  than  a  passing,  perishing 
world,  should  not  we  stoop  down  to  make  them  our 
own ;  and  saved,  through  God's  free  grace  and  sove- 
reign mercy,  be  of  those  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  He  was 
found  of  them  who  sought  him  not  "  ? 

THE   CONDUCT   OF   THE   FINDER. 

He  hid  the  treasure. — "  It  is  naught,  it  is  naught, 
saith  the  buyer;"  and  though  this  man  may  not  have 
depreciated  the  real,  he  took  pains  to  conceal  the  ac- 
cidental value  of  the  field.  We  are  not  required  to 
settle  such  questions  of  moral  casuistry  as  the  method 
he  took  to  possess  himself  of  this  treasure  may  sug- 
gest. To  the  profits  of  such  discoveries  as  are  the 


166  THE   PARABLES. 

fruits  of  a  man's  observation  or  inventive  genius,  our 
law  gives  him  the  exclusive  right — at  least  for  a  term 
of  years ;  nor  would  it  regard  the  profits  of  this  dis- 
covery as  belonging  of  right  to  the  proprietor  of  the 
soil.  In  this  country,  treasure-trove,  as  it  is  called,  is 
claimed  by  the  crown.  But  whether  this  man's  con- 
duct was  justifiable  is  not  a  question  we  are  called  to 
settle.  In  hiding  the  treasure  till  he  had  made  himself 
owner  of  the  field,  he  took  the  surest  way  of  making 
it  his  own,  and  expressed,  better  than  any  words  could 
do,  its  value  in  his  eyes.  Teaching  us  how  to  act  in  those 
matters  that  belong  to  salvation,  he  spared  no  pains, 
and  lost  not  an  hour,  and  grudged  no  sacrifice  to  possess 
himself  of  this  treasure — and,  as  applied  to  the  infi- 
nitely more  valuable  treasures  of  the  gospel,  these  are 
the  points  which  Jesus  proposes  for  our  imitation.  By 
this  parable  the  Saviour  calls  men  to  leave  no  stone 
unturned,  no  pains  untaken,  no  anxiety  unfelt,  no 
prayer  unsaid,  no  Sabbath  nor  day  unimproved  to 
make  these  treasures  theirs.  And,  0,  how  happy 
the  wretched,  how  calm  the  troubled,  how  cheerful  the 
sad,  how  pure  the  foulest,  how  rich  the  poorest,  in  view 
of  death  how  brave  the  timid,  in  death  itself  how  tran- 
quil, even  triumphant,  all  might  be,  if  we  only  felt  as 
much  concern  and  took  as  much  care  to  find  Christ,  as 
this  man  to  secure  a  fleeting  treasure. 

Unless  in  the  sense  of  guarding  their  peace  of  mind 
from  being  disturbed  by  temptation,  and  their  purity 
from  being  stained  by  sin,  those  who  find  treasures  in 
the  Gospel,  do  not  hide  them.  On  the  contrary,  they 
seek  to  make  the  great  discovery  known,  and  to  com- 


THE   PARABLE    OF   THE    HID   TREASURE.  167 

municate  its  benefits  to  all.  There  is  no  temptation  to 
do  otherwise,  to  keep  it  to  ourselves,  since  it  has  bless- 
ings in  the  pardon  and  peace  of  God  enough  for  us 
and  for  all  others.  It  is  as  if  one  of  a  caravan  that 
had  sunk  on  the  burning  desert,  were,  in  making  a 
last  effort  for  life,  to  discover  no  muddy  pool,  but  a 
vast  fountain — cool  as  the  snows  that  replenished  its 
spring,  and  pure  as  the  heavens  that  were  reflected  on 
its  bosom.  He  revives  at  the  blessed  sight,  and,  push- 
ing on  to  the  margin,  stoops  to  drink ;  yet  ere  his 
thirst  is  fully  quenched,  see  how  he  speeds  away  to 
pluck  his  friends  from  the  arms  of  death ;  and,  hark  ! 
how  he  shouts,  making  the  lone  desert  ring  to  the  cry, 
"  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters." 
None  ever  found  Christ  but  they  wished  that  others  also 
might  find  him,  were  ever  saved  without  a  desire  to 
save  springing  up  in  their  hearts — theirs  the  spirit  of 
Andrew,  when  he  went  to  his  brother  Peter,  crying, 
"  We  have  found  the  Messias," — of  those  who  said 
"  Come  thou  with  us,  we  will  do  thee  good,"  "Arise, 
for  we  have  seen  the  land,  and  behold  it  is  very 
good." 

HE  PARTS  WITH  ALL  FOR  THIS  TREASURE. 

On  boating  once  along  a  coast  where  the  billows 
roared  in  the  deep  caves,  and  broke  in  sheets  of  foam 
on  the  face  of  cliffs  that  rose  hundreds  of  feet  sheer  up 
from  the  sea,  we  heard  the  sound  of  merry  voices 
mingling  with  the  sea-mew's  screams ;  and  on  looking 
up  saw  to  our  surprise  a  group  of  urchins  standing 
with  their  backs  against  the  rocky  wall,  and  with 


168  THE   PARABLES. 

scant  room  on  its  projecting  ledges  for  their  naked 
feet.  One  false  step,  a  dizzy  moment,  and  the  body, 
bounding  from  ledge  to  ledge,  had  sunk  like  lead  into 
the  deep.  Yet  these  children,  poised  on  the  beetling 
crag,  were  light-hearted  as  any  culling  the  flowers  of 
the  meadow,  or  sitting  by  their  mother's  side  on  the 
hearth  of  the  fisherman's  hut.  Their  safety  lay  in 
this,  that  they  had  been  reared  among  such  scenes, 
and  accustomed  from  early  infancy  to  positions  that 
would  have  turned  our  heads.  On  the  other  hand  a 
sudden  elevation  is  usually  followed  by  a.  sudden  fall ; 
and  such  is  the  danger  he  is  exposed  to,  who,  like  tht 
man  of  this  parable,  is  raised  by  one  rapid  revolution 
of  the  wheel  of  fortune  from  great  poverty  to  great 
affluence.  The  man  gets  intoxicated  with  joy ;  the 
head  grows  giddy ;  and  falling  into  habits  of  boundless 
extravagance,  or,  worse  still,  into  habits  of  profligacy 
and  vice,  he  is  ruined — his  fortune  proving  in  the  end 
a  great  misfortune.  So  imminent  indeed  is  this  danger, 
that  there  is  no  wise  and  prudent  pious  father  but 
would  tremble  for  his  boy,  should  he,  when  preparing 
himself  to  fight  his  way  on  in  life,  suddenly  succeed  to 
the  possession  of  a  fortune. 

In  the  treasures  of  gold  and  silver  there  lurks  great 
danger ;  in  those  of  grace  none :  nor  is  there  a  good 
man  but  would  rejoice  should  his  son  come,  with  beam- 
ing face,  to  announce  the  tidings  that  he  had  found  a 
Saviour ;  pardon  and  grace  and  peace  in  Jesus  Christ. 

Unlike  common  riches,  this  treasure  breeds  neither 
jealousies  nor  fears  nor  envy.  No  Christian  woman 
repines  that  her  husband  loves  Jesus  better  than  her : 


THK    PAKAJJLE    OF   THE    HID   TUEASURE.  169 

no  godly  mother,  however  she  may  feel  the  pang  of 
parting,  but  approves  the  son  who,  burning  with  love 
to  souls,  tears  himself  from  her  arms  to  plant  the  cro.ss 
on  heathen  shores.  Your  families  of  noble  blood  or 
ancient  pedigree  eye  him  with  jealousy  who,  emerging 
from  the  obscurity  of  humble  life,  rises  with  his  plebeian 
blood  to  a  position  lofty  as  their  own.  But  next  to  the 
joy  of  possessing  the  treasures  and  honors  of  the  Gos- 
pel is  that  of  seeing  poor  sinners  made  heirs  of  the 
grace  of  God,  and  heaven's  highest  titles  bestowed  on 
those  that  were  the  vilest  of  mankind.  The  greater 
the  number  who  get  this  treasure,  the  greater  the  joy 
of  those  who  already  have  it.  And  how  great  and  deep 
that  joy,  is  set  forth  in  the  conduct  of  this  man — he 
parted  with  all  he  had  to  possess  the  treasure.  What 
he  paid  indeed  was  not  the  value  of  it ;  and  certainly 
this  parable  was  not  told  to  teach  us  that  when  the 
haughty  part  with  their  pride,  and  drunkards  with 
their  cup,  the  licentious  with  their  vices,  the  gay  with 
their  vanities,  the  avaricious  with  the  love  of  money, 
others  with  their  darling  sins,  they  thereby  purchase 
salvation.  Assuredly  not.  Salvation  is  all  of  grace. 
Yet  these  things  are  required. — "  Let  him  that  ^meth 
the  name  of  Christ  depart  from  all  iniquity." — "  Who- 
soever would  be  my  disciple,  let  him  take  up  his  cross, 
deny  himself  daily  and  follow  me."  "Ye  cannot," 
says  our  Lord,  "  serve  God  and  Mammon."  Shrink 
not  from  the  pain  these  sacrifices  must  cost.  It  is  not 
BO  great  as  many  fancy.  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  his 
people's  strength.  Love  has  so  swallowed  up  all 
sense  of  pain,  and  sorrow  been  so  lost  in  ravishment 
15 


170  THE    PAIiABLES. 

that  men  of  old  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their 
goods,  and  martyrs  went  to  the  burning  stake  with 
beaming  countenances,  and  sang  high  death-songs  amid 
the  roaring  flames.  Let  us  by  faith  rise  above  the  world, 
and  it  will  shrink  into  littleness  and  insignificance  com- 
pared with  Christ.  Some  while  ago  two  aeronauts, 
hanging  in  mid-air,  looked  down  on  the  earth  from 
their  balloon,  and  wondered  to  see  how  small  great 
things  had  grown — ample  fields  were  contracted  into 
little  patches — the  lake  was  no  bigger  than  a  looking- 
glass — the  broad  river  with  ships  floating  on  its  bosom, 
seemed  like  a  silver  snake — the  wide-spread  city  was 
reduced  to  the  dimensions  of  a  village — the  long, 
rapid,  flying  train  appeared  but  a  black  caterpillar 
slowly  creeping  over  the  surface  of  the  ground.  And 
such  changes  the  world  undergoes  to  the  eyes  of  him 
who,  rising  to  hold  communion  with  God  and  antici- 
pating the  joys  of  heaven,  lives  above  it  and  looks  be- 
yond it.  This  makes  it  easy  and  even  joyful  to  part 
with  all  for  Christ — this  is  the  victory  that  overcometh 
the  world,  even  our  faith. 


vm. 

f \t  fat*  0f  %  f  earl  0f  tost  f  rite. 

Matthew  xiii.  45,  46. 

THE  costliest  jewel  mentioned  by  ancient  writers  ia 
a  pearl  which  belonged  to  Cleopatra,  the  beautiful  but 
infamous  queen  of  Egypt ;  and  the  strongest  proof 
which  Roman  historians  have  to  give  of  the  wanton 
and  boundless  extravagance  of  some  of  their  emperors 
is  the  fact  that  they  dissolved  pearls  in  vinegar,  and 
drank  them  with  their  wine.  In  harmony  with  these 
passages  of  profane  history,  this  and  other  parts  of 
sacred  Scripture  prove  that  among  jewels,  the  highest 
place  in  former  times  was  assigned  to  pearls.  When 
our  Lord,  for  example,  warned  his  disciples  to  beware 
how  they  wasted  truths  of  the  highest  value  on  such  as 
could  not  appreciate  them,  he  selects  these  as  their 
emblem,  saying,  "  Give  not  that  which  is  holy  unto 
dogs,  neither  cast  ye  your  pearls  before  swine."  Such 
place  also  pearls  hold  in  the  attire  of  the  woman  whom 
John  names  "  Mystery,  Babylon  the  Great,  the  mother 
of  harlots  and  abominations  of  the  earth,  who  was 
drunken  with  the  blood  of  the  saints,  and  with  the  blood 
of  the  martyrs  of  Jesus."  In  a  picture,  so  graphic  as 

(171) 


172  THE    PARABLES. 

to  remind  as  of  the  memorable  words  of  Lord  Bacon — 
who  said  that,  if  the  descriptions  of  Antichrist  were 
extracted  from  Scripture  and  put  into  the  Hue  and  Cry, 
there  was  not  a  constable  in  all  England  but  would 
apprehend  the  Pope, — John  describes  the  dress  as  well 
as  the  deeds  of  this  bloody  persecutor.  She  was  ar- 
rayed, he  says,  "  in  purple  and  scarlet  color,  and 
decked  with  gold  and  precious  stones  and  pearls ;"  and 
here,  be  it  observed,  while  other  gems,  however  beauti- 
ful and  costly, — the  flashing  diamond,  and  burning 
ruby,  and  purple  amethyst,  and  sea-green  emerald,  and 
sapphire  with  hues  borrowed  from  the  sky, — are  only 
mentioned  under  the  general  term  of  precious  stones, 
pearls,  as  more  valuable  than  these,  are  distinctly 
named.  From  all  which  we  are  warranted  to  conclude 
that  when  our  Lord  compared  "  the  kingdom  of  heav- 
en," the  blessings,  in  other  words,  of  redeeming  love, 
to  "  one  pearl  of  great  price,"  he  intended  to  set  them 
forth  as  of  pre-eminent  value ;  as  in  fact,  amid  a  thou- 
sand things  desirable,  the  one  thing  needful. 

But,  besides  its  money  value,  a  pearl  such  as  this 
presented  a  remarkable  as  well  as  beautiful  emblem  of 
salvation  in  other  aspects — in,  for  instance,  a  color  of 
snowy  whiteness,  a  purity  unclouded  by  the  slightest 
haze,  and  a  form  so  round  and  polished  and  perfect 
that  it  was  impossible  to  improve  it.  The  lapidary,  to 
whose  grinding  skill  the  very  diamond  owes  much  of 
its  brilliancy  and  those  many-colored  fires  with  which 
it  shines  and  burns,  may  not  touch  a  pearl.  His  art 
cannot  add  to  its  beauty — the  polish  of  its  snowy  sur- 
face, or  the  perfection  of  its  rounded  form.  And  what 


THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE.          173 

an  emblem,  therefore,  is  this  gem  of  that  salvation 
which  came  perfect  from  the  hand  of  God — of  that 
righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ  which,  as  no  guilt  of 
ours  can  stain,  no  works  of  ours  can  improve — of  that 
Gospel  which,  as  revealed  in  the  Bible,  is  without  de- 
fect of  truth  or  admixture  of  error,  and  which  the 
last  of  the  inspired  writers  therefore  closes  with  this 
solemn  warning :  "  If  any  man  shall  add  unto  these 
things,  God  shall  add  unto  him  the  plagues  that  are 
written  in  this  book :  and  if  any  man  shall  take  away 
from  the  words  of  the  book  of  this  prophecy,  God 
shall  take  away  his  part  out  of  the  book  of  life,  and 
out  of  the  holy  city." 

Nor  does  this  pearl  present  an  emblem  of  salvation 
in  respect  only  of  its  incalculable  price  and  intrinsic 
characters.  In  the  hazards  and  sacrifices  at  which 
both  were  obtained,  we  discern,  however  faintly,  an- 
other point  of  resemblance.  Other  gems,  the  diamond 
and  ruby  and  emerald  and  sapphire,  lie  bedded  in 
river-courses,  or  set  in  the  solid  rocks ;  and  there  men 
seek  them  without  loss  of  health  or  risk  of  life.  But 
pearls  belong  to  the  ocean ;  they  are  gems  which  she 
casts  not  up  among  the  pebbles  that  strew  her  beach, 
but  hides  in  her  dangerous  and  darkest  depths. 
Hence  a  dreadful  trade  is  the  pearl-fisher's.  Weighted 
with  stone  to  sink  him,  and  inhaling  a  long,  deep- 
drawn  breath,  he  leaps  from  the  boat's  side,  and,  the 
parting  waves  closing  above  his  head,  descends  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea  to  grope  for  the  shelly  spoils  amid 
the  dim  light  which  faintly  illuminates  her  slimy  bed; 
nor  rises,  breathless  and  black  in  face,  to  the  surface 
15* 


174  THE    PAUABLES. 

till  on-lookers  have  begun  to  fear  that  he  will  rise  no 
more.  And  not  unfrequently  he  never  does.  These 
waters  are  the  haunts  of  terrible  monsters ;  and, 
marked  for  its  prey  by  the  swift  and  fierce  and  vora- 
cious shark,  in  vain  the  wretched  man  stirs  the  muddy 
bottom  to  raise  a  cloud  to  cover  his  escape.  Some  air- 
bells  bubbling  up,  and  blood  that  spreads  crimsoning 
the  surface  of  the  sea,  are  all  that  is  evermore  seen  of 
one  who  dies  a  sacrifice  to  his  hazardous  pursuits ;  and 
the  story  of  the  dangers  which  pearl-fishers  have  al- 
ways to  encounter,  and  the  dreadful  deaths  they  have 
often  to  endure,  will  recall  to  a  reflective  mind  the 
memory  of  Him  who,  in  salvation,  purchased  this 
pearl  at  so  great  a  price — giving  his  life  for  ours,  and 
dying,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us 
to  God. 

Though  it  belongs  to  ages  long  gone  by,  I  may  men- 
tion another  aspect  of  this  emblem  that  devout  men 
once  considered  peculiarly  appropriate.  Ere  the  pro- 
gress of  science  had  robbed  this  and  other  things  of 
their  wonders,  they  saw  in  the  manner  in  which  the 
pearl  was  said  to  be  generated  a  figure  of  the  mystery 
of  our  Lord's  divine  descent  and  miraculous  concep- 
tion. Unlike  those  which  are  found  in  the  womb  of 
the  dead  earth,  this  gem  is  formed  within  the  shell  of 
a  living  creature ;  and  in  old  times  it  was  believed  that 
when  the  heavens  were  in  a  peculiar  state,  manifesting 
their  activity  in  flashes  of  lightning  and  peals  of  thun- 
der, the  future  parent  of  the  pearl  rose  from  the  bot- 
tom to  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and,  opening  its  shelly 
mouth,  received  something  of  the  nature  of  a  dewdrop 


THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE.          175 

from  the  propitious  skies.  From  this  germ,  with  which 
the  shell-fish  descended  again  into  its  native  depths, 
the  pearl  was  believed  to  be  formed  ;  and  'in  this  na- 
tural mystery  and  strange  birth  of  the  precious  gem, 
old  divines  saw  an  emblem  of  our  Lord's  descent  into 
the  dark  humiliations  of  this  lower  world,  the  over- 
shadowing of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  conception  of 
the  Virgin's  womb.  The  researches  of  naturalists  have 
taught  us  that  the  pearl  has  no  claim  to  such  a  lofty 
and  heavenly  descent.  Yet,  though  science  has  robbed 
that  as  well  as  many  things  else  of  the  dignity  which 
belongs  to  the  mysterious,  and  pearls  now-a-days  have 
lost  much  of  their  pre-eminent  value,  neither  the  dis- 
coveries of  science,  nor  the  changes  of  time  and 
fashion,  have  abated  the  value  or  lessened  the  wonders 
of  redeeming  love.  Jesus  is  the  same  yesterday,  "to- 
day, and  forever:  and  salvation,  with  its  blood-bought 
and  inestimable  blessings,  will  ever  remain  that  "  one 
pearl  of  great  price"  which  may  be  found  by  all ;  and 
which  whosoever  finds  should  sell  all  he  has  to  buy, — 
saying,  with  the  apostle,  "  I  count  all  things  but  loss 
that  I  may  win  Christ." 

Jn  opening  up  this  parable  let  us  consider 

THE  PERSONS  REPRESENTED  BY  THIS  MERCHANT. 

Mankind  present  all  shades  of  color, — from  the 
negro,  God's  image  in  ebony,  as  one  said,  to  the  fair- 
skinned,  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  types  of  our  Scan- 
dinavian ancestors, — all  varieties  also  of  disposition, 
from  the  penunousuess  of  Nabal  to  the  affection  em- 
balmed by  David  in  this  immortal  song :  "  I  am  dis- 


176  THE   PARABLES. 

tressed  for  thee,  my  brother  Jonathan :  very  pleasant 
hast  thou  been  unto  me :  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful, 
passing  the  love  of  women," — all  degrees  also  of  sense, 
from  the  fool  who,  untaught  by  experience,  though 
pounded  in  a  mortar  comes  out  the  same,  to  those 
astute,  far-seeing,  and  long-headed  men,  whose  utter- 
ances, like  the  counsels  of  Ahitophel,  are  "  as  if  a 
man  inquired  at  the  oracle  of  God," — and  all  differ- 
ences also  of  outward  condition,  from  Lazarus  covered 
with  sores  and  clothed  in  rags  nor  ever  enjoying  one 
good  full  meal,  upward  to  him  who,  clothed  in  purple 
and  fine  linen,  fares  sumptuously  every  day.  Yet  in 
God's  sight  the  whole  human  family  is  divisible  into 
two  classes,  and  only  two — the  good  and  bad,  the  chaff 
and  wheat,  the  wheat  and  tares,  the  sheep  and  goats, 
the  converted  and  the  unconverted — those  that,  still  at 
enmity  with  God,  lie  under  condemnation,  and  such  as, 
renewed  in  the  spirit  of  their  minds  and  reconciled  to 
Him  by  the  blood  of  his  Son,  are  in  a  state  of  grace. 
But,  like  those  great  orders  of  plants  or  animals 
which  we  meet  with  in  the  sciences  of  botany  and 
zoology,  these  two  classes  are  divisible  into  numerous 
subdivisions,  differing  apparently,  though  not  radically, 
so  much  from  each  other  that  some  sinners  seem  to 
stand  more  nearly  related  to  saints  than  to  many  of 
their  own  class ;  just  as,  for  instance,  the  sponge  or 
branching  coral,  fixed  to  the  rocks  and  belonging  to 
the  animal  kingdom,  looks  more  allied  to  the  tangle 
that  sways  than  to  the  fishes  that  swim  in  the  flowing 
tide.  Let  no  man  therefore  conclude  that  he  must  be 
converted  because  there  are  broad  outward  marks  i>f 


THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE.          177 

difference  between  him  and  many  who  certainly  are 
not.  People  have  gone  down  to  hell,  as  the  Pharisee 
did  to  his  house,  thanking  God  that  they  are  not  as 
others.  The  difference  between  them  has  been  more 
apparent  than  real,  being  no  greater  than  that  between 
two  nights — one  where  the  bark  seems  to  sail  in  the 
moonshine  on  a  silver  sea,  and  the  other  so  pitchy 
dark  that  her  outlook  can  see  neither  coast  nor  reef, 
though  he  hears  the  roar  of  breakers ;  or  between  two 
bodies  both  dead — one  still  beautiful  in  death,  and  the 
other  a  horrid  spectacle  of  loathsome  and  ghastly  de- 
cay. In  such  circumstances  how  necessary  it  is  to  re- 
member our  Saviour's  warning  :  "  Take  heed  that  ye  be 
not  deceived."  What  though  we  are  seeking  even  goodly 
pearls,  unless  we  have  found  the  one  of  great  price  ? 

And  there  are  such  people.  Owing  to  the  influence 
of  a  pious  education,  or  of  something  naturally  ele- 
vated and  refined  in  their  disposition,  or  of  the  society 
in  which  they  move,  or  of  some  more  mysterious 
causes,  there  are  people  in  the  world,  and  of  the  world 
too,  who  may  be  said  to  be  seeking  goodly  pearls. 
They  cultivate  refined  enjoyments ;  they  are  pursuing 
patriotic  and  philanthropic  objects;  they  are  seeking 
to  be  good,  and  to  do  good ;  they  feel  that  man's  hap- 
piness cannot  lie  in  gratifications  which  satisfy  the 
brutes,  or  in  empty  gaiety,  or  in  the  common  prizes  of 
ambition,  or  in  any  amount  of  money,  but  in  nobler 
and  godlike  pursuits — in  purity  of  heart,  peace  of  con,r 
science,  and  that  happy  relationship  to  God  without 
which  there  is  no  more  rest  for  a  human  soul  than, 
there  was  for  the  wanclerine;  dove  till,  skimming  the 


178  THE    PARABLES. 

waters  on  drooping  wing,  she  returned  to  her  home  in 
the  ark.  These  are  "  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven ;  "  and  were  in  it,  would  they  take  but  another 
step.  Almost  Christians,  they  are  almost  saved.  But 
what  avails  it  to  have  almost  made  the  port  ?  So  did 
the  ship  whose  naked  timbers  I  once  passed  sticking 
out  of  the  water.  Struck  by  a  giant  sea,  she  stove  in 
her  sides  on  the  point  of  the  pier,  and  went  to  pieces 
in  the  harbor's  mouth ;  and  as  on  entering  it  I  passed 
these  skeleton  ribs  bedded  in  the  sand  below  and 
rising  on  the  tide  above,  they  had  a  warning  look,  and 
seemed  to  say,  that  as  in  that-  case  so  in  the  case  of 
souls,  "almost  saved"  was  but  another  expression  for 
"altogether  lost." 

Let  it  be  observed  that  different  characters,  different 
classes  of  sinners,  are  represented  as  being  saved  in 
f,he  two  parables  of  the  Hid  Treasure  and  the  Pearl  of 
Great  Price.  For  examples  of  these,  let  me  select  two 
remarkable  men — Colonel  Gardiner  and  John  Bunyan. 
Gardiner's  was  a  sudden  and  remarkable  conversion. 
Previous  to  that,  he,  who  afterwards  proved  himself  as 
brave  as  soldier  of  the  Cross  as  of  an  earthly  sovereign 
on  that  fatal  field  where,  refusing  to  fly,  he  fell  beneath 
the  Highlander's  scythe,  was  a  mere  man  of  the  world 
— not  a  lover  only  of  pleasure,  but  of  the  basest  pleas- 
ures. The  eventful  night  which  he  so  unexpectedly 
passed  in  prayer,  he  had  intended  to  spend  in  the 
arms  of  sin.  As  he  impatiently  watched  the  finger  of 
the  clock  moving  slowly  on  to  the  hour  of  a  guilty  as- 
signation, nothing  was  further  from  his  thoughts  than 
conversion;  and  had  Death  himself,  throwing  open  the. 


THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE.          179 

chamber  door,  stood  before  him  in  visible  form,  he  had 
not  been  more  startled  than  by  the  blow,  dealt  by  an 
unseen  hand,  which  laid  him  penitent  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  In  salvation  Gardiner  found  as  much  as  the 
man  in  the  treasure  which  his  plowshare  brought  to 
light,  what  he  neither  sought  nor  expected.  In  Bun- 
yan,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see  one  who  had  come  to 
know  that  the  world  and  its  pleasures  could  never  sa- 
tisfy the  cravings  of  his  heart.  He  felt  the  need  of 
being  other  than  he  was.  As  an  imprisoned  eagle, 
chained  to  its  perch  and  turning  its  eye  up  to  the  blue 
heavens,  feels  the  strivings  of  a  native  instinct,  and 
springing  upwards  beats  the  bars  of  its  cage  with 
bleeding  wings,  Bunyan  tried  to  rise  out  of  his  estate 
of  sin  and  misery.  He  made  vigorous  efforts  to  keep 
the  law  of  God — to  live  without  sin — to  establish  a 
righteousness  of  his  own — to  work  out  a  sum  of  merits, 
and  thereby  obtain  peace  and  pardon,  and  reconcile 
himself  to  God.  Seeking  the  pardon  of  sin,  a  purer 
life,  and  a  holier  heart,  he  had  been  a  merchant  seek- 
ing "goodly  pearls."  And  as  in  his  case  the  seeker 
became  the  finder,  so  shall  all  who,  like  him,  listen  to 
the  voice  of  Jesus,  saying,  "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye — I  am 
the  way,  the  truth,  the  life — all  which  your  souls  need 
and  your  hearts  desire  is  found  in  me,  '  the  one  pearl ' 
— for  whosoever  believeth  in  me  shall  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life." 

THE    PEARL   OF   GREAT   PRICE. 

Wealth  in  our  country  is   measured  by   the  amount 
of  money  which  a  man  has  lodged  in  bank  or  afloat  in 


180  THE    PARABLES. 

business,  the  value  of  his  house  and  its  furnishings,  or 
the  number  of  acres  in  his  estate.  It  is  quite  different 
in  many  parts  of  the  East.  There  you  enter  a  housa 
with  walls  of  clay  and  thatch  of  straw  or  reeds  or  palm- 
leaves,  and  in  its  tenant — who  sits,  simply  attired  and 
amid  the  scantiest  funiture,  cross-legged  on  a  rug 
which,  spread  out  on  the  naked  floor,  forms  his  seat  by 
day  and  his  bed  by  night — you  find  a  man  of  enormous 
wealth.  He  has  it  invested  in  jewels — nor  without 
reason.  In  countries  liable,  on  the  one  hand,  to  sudden 
invasion,  and  on  the  other  to  sudden  and  violent  revo- 
lutions, where  bloody  tyrants  .oppress  their  subjects, 
and  wealth  is  the  carcase  that  draws  the  eagles  to- 
gether, it  is  in  the  form  of  jewels  that  property  is 
'most  securely  because  most  secretly  kept,  and  in  the 
case  of  flight  most  easily  removed.  Here,  for  example, 
is  a  family  who,  with  villages  in  flames  behind  them, 
are  flying  from  a  ruined  home  and  wretched  country. 
They  seek  safety  elsewhere  ;  and,  with  nothing  saved 
but  their  scanty  clothing,  seem  reduced  to  the  greatest 
want.  Yet  stop  the  mother  who  carries  one  child  on 
her  breast  and  has  another  at  her  side,  and,  undoing  her 
raven  locks,  shake  them  out,  and  a  shower  of  diamonds 
falls  at  your  feet.  In  this  form,  and  hid  in  a  woman's 
hair,  fortunes  have  often  been  carried  from  place  to 
place  in  the  East;  and  it  is  only  by  taking  thib  fact 
into  account,  that  while  with  us  little  else  than  orna- 
ments, precious  stones  arc  there  a  form  of  money,  and 
often  of  immense  wealth,  we  rise  to  an  adequate  idea 
of  the  value  which  Christ  puts  on  his  people  in  calling 
them  his  jewels;  or  of  the  full  meaning  of  a  figure 


THE  PUAKL  OF  GKEAT  PKICE.  181 

that  represents  the  blessings  of  his  salvation,  as  "  one 
pearl  of  great  price"  which  all  other  pearls  and  pro« 
perty  should  be  sold  to  buy. 

As  all  which  the  merchant  sought  in  acquiring  many 
goodly  pearls  was  found  in  one — one  precious,  peerless 
gem,  Jesus  teaches  us  that  the  soul  finds  in  himself  all 
it  feels  the  want  of,  and  has  been  seeking  in  other 
ways — peace  with  God  and  peace  of  conscience,  a  clean 
heart  and  a  renewed  mind,  comfort  in  sorrow  and  a 
sweet  satisfaction  with  all  the  discipline  of  providence, 
hope  in  death  and  a  heaven  of  glory  after  it.  Great  as 
are  these  blessings  in  respect  of  their  value,  they  are 
equally  so  in  respect  of  their  price.  They  cost  God's 
only  Son  long  years  of  the  deepest  humiliation — his 
bloody  agony  and  dreadful  death ;  and  yet,  alas !  in 
being  offered  to  sinners  who  despise  and  reject  Him, 
how  often  is  this  pearl  cast  before  swine  ?  To  them 
who  believe,  Christ  is  precious ;  but  what  can  be  more 
sad  than  to  see  the  value  a  woman  sets  on  trinkets,  the 
pride  with  which  she  shows  and  wears  her  jewels,  while 
Jesus  has  no  preciousness  in  her  eyes  ?  What  fools 
people  are  !  They  set  more  on  some  glittering  bits  of 
glass  or  stone  than  on  a  crown  of  glory  ! — they  care 
more  in  this  dying  body  for  the  perishable  casket  than 
for  the  immortal  jewel  which  it  holds  !  Can  a  maid 
forget  her  ornaments,  or  a  bride  her  attire  ?  Yet 
my  people,  says  God,  have  forgotten  me  days  with- 
out number.  From  such  sin  and  folly,  good  Lord 


preserve  us ! 


16 


182  THE   PARABLES. 


HOW    THIS    PEARL   WAS    OBTAINED. 

It  was  not  bestowed  as  a  gift.  On  the  contrary,  this 
merchantman,  trading  in  goodly  pearls,  bought  it  at 
the  price  of  all  he  had.  If  so,  where,  it  may  be  asked, 
lies  the  analogy  between  this  case  and  a  salvation  that, 
all  of  mercy  and  not  at  all  of  merit,  is  the  free  gift  of 
God  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord?  In  answer  to 
that  question,  let  it  be  observed,  that  the  Bible  has 
paradoxes — things  that  appear  contradictory,  destruc- 
tive as  fire  and  water  are  of  each  other ;  and  yet  are 
true.  We  have  a  living  one,  if  I  may  say  so,  in  our 
Lord  himself.  He  is  a  creature,  and  yet  the  Creator 
— he  is  the  Son  of  man,  and  yet  the  Son  of  God — he 
is  the  victim  of  death,  and  yet  his  victor — he  is  the 
captive  of  the  grave,  and  yet  her  spoiler — he  is  Lord 
of  all,  and  yet,  with  water  and  towel  in  hand,  he  stoops 
as  the  lowest  servant  to  wash  his  servant's  feet — there 
on  Calvary's  bloody  cross  he  suffers  as  a  man,  and  yet 
saves  as  a  God.  And  Christ's  followers,  like  himself, 
present  to  a  wondering  world  what  seems  inconsistent 
features,  impossible  combinations.  Are  they  not,  to 
quote  Paul's  words,  unknown,  and  yet  well  known — 
dying,  and  behold  we  live — chastened,  and  not  killed 
— sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing — poor,  yet  making 
many  rich — having  nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all 
things  ?  Now  as — though  people  may  ask,  how  can 
these  things  be  ? — both  are  true,  it  is  as  true  that  sal- 
vation is  a  free  gift,  and  yet  a  thing  to  be  bought  and 
Bold.  Nay,  more  and  stranger  still,  it  is  bought 
"  without  money  and  without  price."  A  trader  with- 


Tilt    PKA11L    OF    GKEAT   PK1CB.  183 

out  either  money  or  credit  has  no  footing  in  the 
markets  where  Mammon  presides,  and  man  is  the 
seller  as  well  as  the  buyer ;  but  in  the  market  which 
Divine  Mercy  opens,  and  over  which  Divine  Love  pre- 
sides, and  where  "gold  tried  in  the  fire,"  and  robes 
washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  celestial  crowns 
all  set  with  gems  of  glory  are  displayed,  wealth  and 
character  offer  no  advantage.  Here  the  poor  get  as 
good  bargains  as  the  rich — often  better  indeed ;  har- 
lots and  publicans  enter  the  ki-ngdom,  while  scribes 
and  pharisees  are  left  standing  at  the  door. 

I  do  not  mean  to  disparage  good  works.  Christians 
are  to  be  careful  to  maintain  them,  and  to  "  make  their 
light  so  to  shine  before  men  that  they,  seeing  their 
good  works,  may  glorify  their  Father  which  is  in 
heaven."  But  we  are  on  the  wrong  road  altogether  if 
we  are  attempting  to  earn  or  deserve  salvation  by 
these.  No  gathered  sum  of  human  merits,  of  virtues, 
prayers,  or  charities  can,  like  the  accumulation  of 
money  that  forms  the  price  of  an  estate,  purchase 
heaven.  We  have  to  buy,  no  doubt, — but  not  after  the 
world's  fashion.  The  price,  on  the  contrary,  which 
we  are  required  to  pay  is  not  virtues  and  merits,  but 
just  that  we  abandon  all  trust  in  these ;  give  up  in 
them  what  we  may  have  reckoned  goodly  pearls ;  and 
consent  to  be  saved  as  poor,  lost,  undone  sinners — 
whose  type  is  the  beggar  that,  clad  in  filthy  rags  and 
knocking  timidly  at  our  door,  stands  before  us,  making 
no  appeal  but  to  our  compassion,  and  urging  no  plea 
whatever  but  our  mercy  and  his  own  great  misery. 
Still,  though  we  cannot,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 


184  THE    PAUAULKS. 

terra,  buy  salvation,  no  man  is  saved  but  he  who  gives 
up  his  sins  for  Christ — takes  up  his  cross,  and,  denying 
himself  daily,  follows  Jesus.  We  are  not  saved  in  sin, 
but  from  it ;  and,  though  we  cannot  buy  salvation,  we 
are  to  seek  it  as  those  who,  if  they  could,  would  buy 
it  at  any  price,  at  any  pain — giving  the  whole  world, 
were  it  theirs,  for  Christ ;  and  as  earnestly  seeking 
and  as  highly  esteeming  Him  as  she  who  exclaimed : 
"  Were  I  on  one  bank  of  a  river  and  saw  Jesus  on  the 
other,  and  that  river  ran  burning  fire,  I  would  dash 
into  the  flames  to  reach  Him." 

SOME   LESSONS   TAUGHT   BY   THIS   FIGURE   OP   A 
MERCHANT. 

When  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  after  subduing  Europe, 
found  himself  unable  to  subdue  us,  and  saw  his  armies 
broken  on  our  firm  front  like  waves  which  the  storm 
launches  against  a  rocky  headland,  he  called  us,  in  his 
impotent  rage,  "  a  nation  of  shopkeepers."  Owing 
our  power  and  wealth  more  to  commerce  than  to  any- 
thing else,  in  a  sense  we  are  so — nor  are  we  ashamed 
of  being  so.  Trade  is  an  honorable  occupation.  Like 
those  ocean  streams  that  temper  the  cold  of  northern 
climes  with  the  heat  of  the  tropics,  and  float  ice-field 
and  iceberg  southward  to  cool  the  air  of  the  torrid 
zone,  its  currents  also  convey  to  different  lands  the  pe- 
culiar blessings  of  each ;  and,  besides  thus  binding 
country  to  country  in  the  bonds  of  mutual  advantage, 
it  promises  to  be  an  instrument  in  the  providence  of 
God  of  diffusing  the  blessings  of  Christianity  over  the 
world.  A  nation  of  traders  whose  merchants  are 


THE  PEARL  OP  GREAT  PRICE.          185 

prince*,  and  whose  traffickers  are  the  honorable  of  the 
earth,  there  is  no  figure  in  the  Bible — neither  that  of 
a  shepherd,  nor  of  a  soldier,  nor  of  a  watchman,  nor 
of  a  husbandman,  nor  of  a  householder — which  comes 
more  home  to  us  than  that  of  a  merchant.  It  suggests 
many  lessons ;  and  to  select  a  few  of  them  I  remark 
that— 

It  teaches  us  to  make  religion  our  chief  pursuit. — 
Such  is  to  the  merchant  his  business.  To  it  he  does 
not  allot  merely  some  hours  stolen  from  the  pursuits 
of  pleasure.  He  rises  to  business  every  morning ;  it 
engages  his  entire  attention  during  the  day ;  nor,  save 
during  a  few  hours  in  the  evening,  and  a  few  days,  or 
weeks  at  most,  in  the  year,  does  he  ever  yield  himself 
up  to  the  enjoyments  of  ease.  In  its  pursuit  he  is  all 
energy  and  activity.  What  a  hold  it  takes  of  his 
mind  ! — forming  the  topic  of  his  conversation  at  feasts, 
and  often  at  funerals — intruding  itself  unbidden,  and 
to  a  good  man  unwelcome  into  the  closet  where  he 
prays  and  the  church  where  he  worships  ! 

Would  God  that  the  business  of  eternity  had  as 
strong  a  hold  of  our  minds !  But,  alas !  the  least 
thing  puts  it  out  of  our  head.  And  what  greater  con- 
trast than  the  appearance  of  the  same  people  in  a 
church  and  at  a  market — the  dull  worshipers  of  this 
scene  and  the  keen  traders  of  that — the  listless  aspect 
of  the  Sabbath  congregation  and  the  animated  looks 
of  the  market  crowd !  Enter  an  auction-mart,  what 
life,  what  keen  competitors,  what  watching  to  catch  a 
chance ! — no  sleepers  there,  but  every  face  turned  up 
to  him  who,  raised  above  the  eager  crowd,  descants  on 
16* 


186  THE   PARABLES. 

the  bargains  to  be  had.  Enter  a  church,  and 
different  the  aspect  of  many  ? — people  asleep  in  the 
pews — listlessness  in  the  countenances  and  weariness 
in  the  attitudes  of  others.  Who  would  believe  this  to  be 
a  crowd  of  men  under  sentence  of  death,  whom  one  is 
telling  how  to  break  their  chains  and  escape  the  gallows 
— a  crowd  gathered  on  the  deck  and  hanging  over  the 
bulwarks  of  a  sinking  ship,  whom  one  who  has  brought 
a  life-boat  to  the  scene,  is  offering  to  rescue  from  the 
roaring  waves  and  a  dreadful  doom  ?  The  danger 
there  is  that,  unless  you  back  your  oars  and  go  warily 
to  work,  the  eager  throng,  rushing  en  masse  to  the 
side  and  throwing  themselves  headlong  in,  will  swamp 
your  boat ;  but,  alas  !  the  chances  in  that  church  are, 
that  not  one  of  a  hundred,  or  one  of  a  thousand,  accepts 
the  offer.  If  I  may  use  a  common  expression,  mul- 
titudes make  religion  a  bye-job,  and  not  a  business, — 
giving  it  but  the  ends  and  odds  of  time ;  and  many 
not  even  that.  May  God  help  us  to  throw  our  whole 
heart  into  this  business ;  teaching  us  to  give  all  dili- 
gence to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure — to  work 
out  our  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling — to  work 
•while  it  is  called  to-day,  seeing  that  the  night  cometh 
when  no  man  can  work ! 

It.  teaches  us  to  guard  against  deception. — The 
money  which  has  a  suspicious  look  the  wary  trader 
rings  on  his  counter ;  knowing  what  frauds  are  prac- 
tised in  business,  the  wise  merchant  often  puts  such 
goods  as  he  receives  to  the  test ;  and  the  utmost  care 
is  taken  in  such  a  trade  especially  as  that  of  this 
parable  to  guard  against  mistakes  or  imposition.  Be- 


THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE.  187 

fore  buying  a  gem,  the  jewel-merchant  examines  it 
with  a  powerful  magnifier — nor  without  reason.  The 
smallest  speck  on  a  diamond  detracts  greatly  from  its 
value :  worthless  bits  of  glass  are  so  cut  and  colored 
as  to  pass  for  precious  stones :  and  by  means  of  the 
brilliant  scales  of  a  small  fish  which  inhabits  a  river  in 
France,  they  fabricate  such  perfect  imitations  of  the 
pearl,  as  to  impose  on  ordinary,  and  almost  to  deceive 
the  quickest,  eyes.  The  dupes  of  fraud,  men  have 
paid  immense  sums  for  pearls  which  were  found  to  be 
only  paste. 

But,  through'  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart  and  wiles 
of  the  devil,  men  have  been  greater  dupes  and  suffered 
unspeakably  greater  losses.  As  it  is  not  all  gold  that 
glitters,  it  is  not  all  grace  that  seems  so.  There  is  a 
counterfeit  peace  as  well  as  counterfeit  coin — there  are 
hopes  of  heaven  which  rest  on  sand  as  well  as  hopes 
founded  on  the  Rock  of  Ages — there  is  a  righteousness 
which  is  ours,  as  well  as  one  which  is  Christ's — there  are 
virtues  that,  like  sweet  wild-flowers,  cling  to  the  ruins 
of  humanity  as  well  as  graces  that  are  the  fruit  of  the 
Holy  Spirit — there  are  kind  and  generous,  but  merely 
natural,  as  well  as  holy  and  heavenly  affections.  Such 
being  the  case,  no  merchant  needs  to  be  more  on  his 
guard  against  fraud  and  deception  than  those  who 
may  flatter  themselves  that  they  are  regenerated 
when  they  are  only  reformed.  Many,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  fancy  that  they  are  on  the  way  to  heaven  who 
are  on  the  way  to  hell ;  that  they  are  at  peace  with 
God  when  their  only  peace  is  that  of  the  river  which 
is  locked  in  ice — the  quiet  and  silence  of  a  tomb 


188  THE    PARABLES. 

where  there  is  no  disturbance  just  because  there  ia 
death ! 

It  teaches  us  to  examine  our  accounts  with  G-od. 
There  is  a  biography  called  "  The  Successful  Mer- 
chant," and,  without  having  read  it,  I  will  venture  to 
affirm  that  Budgett — this  merchant — was  careful  to 
balance  his  books,  and  apply  to  his  business  the  spirit 
of  the  Apostle's  precept,  "  Let  a  man  examine  him- 
self." Alas !  that  in  the  use  of  such  a  precaution 
the  children  of  this  world  should  be  so  much  wiser 
than  the  children  of  light !  It  is  a  part  of  every 
merchant's  education  to  learn  that  art ;  and  it  is  his 
only  safety  to  practise  it.  Neglecting  to  balance  his 
books,  he  may  launch  out  into  expenses  quite  unsuit- 
able to  his  circumstances ;  persevere  in  branches  of 
business  which  are  not  to  his  profit,  but  loss;  fancy  he 
is  making  money  when  he  is  driving  on  ruin.  No 
other  fate  awaits  the  reckless  adventurer  than  that  of 
the  emigrant  ship  which  some  weeks  ago,  with  hun- 
dreds on  board  of  her,  full  of  hopes  of  happiness  and 
fortune  in  the  New  World,  ran  headlong  on  Cape  Race 
to  break  in  pieces,  and,  whelming  its  living  freight 
into  the  devouring  waves,  gave  them  a  grave  on  the 
shores  where  they  expected  a  happy  home !  They 
took  no  soundings,  and  so  they  found  no  safety.  The 
wise  merchant  takes  stock,  balances  his  books,  and,  in 
some  businesses  at  least,  strikes  a  balance  on  every 
day's  transactions.  In  this,  as  in  the  energy  and  toil 
and  self-denial  and  resolution  of  worldly,  how  much  is 
there  worthy  of  the  imitation  of  Christian,  men  ? 
Why  should  not  we,  at  the  close  of  each  day,  recall 


THE  PEA.RL  OF  GREAT  PRICE.  189 

and  review  its  transactions  to  see  how  our  accounts 
stand  with  conscience  and  with  God — what  duties  had 
been  neglected,  and  what  done — what  temptations  had 
been  resisted,  and  what  yielded  to ;  how  far  we  had 
indulged  evil  passions,  how  far  mortified  them — how 
like  or  how  unlike  to  Christ's  our  demeanor  had  been  ? 
This  were  a  scrutiny  which,  though  often  painful  and 
humbling,  would  be  attended  with  the  happiest  results. 
How  many  sins  would  it  extinguish  in  the  spark  from 
which  Christians  have  afterwards  to  be  saved  by  being 
pulled  out  of  the  roaring  fire  ?  How  often  would  it 
check  a  deviation  at  the  beginning  which  ends  in  our 
going  far  astray,  and  losing  a  peace  which  in  this 
world  we  may  never  fully  recover  ?  In  how  many 
cases  would  it,  by  early  sending  us  to  the  balm  of 
Gilead,  heal  wounds  that,  neglected,  fester  into  deep, 
running,  sores?  And  as  I  have  seen  the  workman, 
ere  he  retired  to  rest,  throw  himself  into  stream  or  sea 
to  wash  away  the  sweat  and  dust  of  his  daily  toil, 
from  such  a  review  the  Christian  would  repair  each 
evening  to  the  fountain  of  Jesus'  blood  to  be  cleansed 
of  the  guilt  of  daily  sins ;  and  rise  each  morning  to 
seek  the  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  do  his  work,  to 
keep  his  watch,  to  bear  his  burden,  to  fight  his  battle, 
better.  If  balancing  our  accounts  with  God,  if  re- 
viewing the  day's  transactions,  showed  no  progress  in 
the  divine  life,  what  earnestness  and  liveliness  would 
it  impart  to  our  evening  prayers  ?  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  showed  some  good  done,  some  sin  crucified, 
some  progress  made,  what  a  comfort,  as  we  laid  our 
head  on  the  pillow,  to  think  that  we  were  nearer 


190  THE    PARABLES. 

heaven  than  when  we  first  believed,  and  that,  vft  ,4 
Jesus  standing  by  the  helm,  our  bark,  whether  glidii  ^ 
smoothly  over  calm  or  tossed  in  tempestuous  seas,  was 
approaching  the  shores  of  the  happy  land — the  hoice 
and  haven  of  our  eternal  rest ! 


EL 

I0si  |im  jof 

Luke  xv.  8—10. 


IT  is  a  grand  sight,  lion-hunters  tell  us,  to  see  the 
forest-king  at  bay.  Driven  from  his  bloody  lair,  and 
pursued  by  men  and  dogs  till  further  flight  is  useless, 
he  turns  round  to  face  his  foes  ;  and  when  he  confronts 
them,  —  lashing  his  sides  with  his  tail,  his  shaggy  mane 
bristling  all  erect,  fire  flashing  from  his  terrible  eyes, 
and  thunder  roaring  from  his  throat,  —  the  coward 
crowd  fall  back  ;  there  is  death  in  the  spring  for  which 
hs  is  bending,  and  only  the  bravest  stand.  Here  the 
Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  is  brought  to  bay.  Jesus 
stands  face  to  face  with  his  enemies  ;  but  how  different 
the  spectacle,  and  the  passions  which  it  expresses  ! 
For  the  purpose  of  blackening  his  reputation,  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees,  his  malignant  and  implacable 
foes,  resort  to  the  basest  insinuations  ;  and  the  Son  of 
God  has  to  stand  on  his  defence.  He  might  have  said, 
and  with  more  reason  than  Jonah,  "  I  do  well  to  be 
angry,"  and,  turning  with  indignation  on  His  accusers, 
covered  these  whited  sepulchres  with  confusion  and 
with  shame.  But  how  meek  and  gentle  his  bearing, 

(191) 


192  THE   PARABLES. 

and  how  triumphant  his  defence !  When  one  reads 
in  these  beautiful  stories  of  the  poor  wandering  sheep, 
of  the  lost  money,  and  of  the  erring  but  repentant  and 
forgiven  prodigal,  how  does  this  apology,  this  justifica- 
tion of  himself  for  associating  with  sinners,  recall  to 
our  recollection  the  words, — 

"  Not  to  condemn  the  sons  of  men, 

The  Son  of  God  appeared  ; 

No  weapons  in  His  hand  are  seen, 

Nor  voice  of  terror  heard !" 

When  suffering  from  calumny,  it  is  usually  the 
wisest  plan  to  follow  John  Wesley's  practice,  and, 
without  reply  from  either  tongue  or  pen,  to  let  our  life 
refute  it,  as  he  said,  "  to  live  it  down."  The  lie,  the 
foul  and  false  insinuation,  which  bad  men  use  to  de- 
stroy the  reputation  of  the  good,  is  like  mud.  While 
it  is  wet,  it  sticks ;  but,  since  to  attempt  to  wash  it  out 
often  only  spreads  the  stain,  it  is  best  to  leave  it  alone ; 
and  drying,  in  a  short  while  it  falls  off  of  itself.  It  is 
not  uncommon  for  those  who  cannot  refute,  to  revile ; 
but  a  man  who  has  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  his 
cause,  and  walking  in  his  integrity,  is  conscious  of  the 
purity  of  his  motives,  is  a  polished  mirror,  from  whose 
face,  though  awhile  obscured,  the  breath  of  scandal 
shall  vanish,  nor  leave  a  stain  behind. 

When  the  interests  of  a  great  cause,  however,  are  at 
stake,  and  attempts  are  made  to  stab  it  through  the 
sides  of  itfi  advocate,  to  destroy  it  by  destroying  his 
reputation,  he  may  find  it  necessary,  much  as  he  might 
prefer  quietly  to  bear  wrcng,  to  act  in  self-defence. 


THE    LOST    PIECE    OB'   MONET.  193 

Such,  in  his  judgment,  appear  to  have  been  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  our  Lord  was  placed.  His 
enemies,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  discredit  on  his 
cause,  had  attempted  to  injure  his  character ;  and  that 
by  the  most  insidious  of  all  ways ;  by  insinuation, 
more  than  by  a  bold  and  open  attack.  "  This  man," 
said  they,  "receiveth  sinners,  and  eateth  with  them." 
Looking  at  that  remark  in  the  light  of  the  adage, 
"  Tell  me  your  company,  and  I  will  tell  you  your  char- 
acter," it  is  easy  to  see  what  they  meant.  It  was 
saying,  in  other  words,  He  keeps  low  company;  if 
like  draws  to  like,  and  birds  of  a  feather  flock  to- 
gether, this  Jesus  is  no  better  than  he  should  be ;  if  he 
were  a  man  of  pure  mind  and  virtuous  life,  would  he 
accept  invitations  to  the  tables  of  people  of  infamous 
character  ? — would  he  outrage  public  decency  and  ob- 
literate the  difference  between  good  and  bad  men, 
virtue  and  vice,  by  eating  and  drinking  with  publicans 
and  sinners  ?  I  can  fancy  them  using  even  Scripture 
to  feather  the  poisoned  arrow ;  and,  as  they  pointed  tc 
Jesus  breathing  words  of  hope  into  the  ear  of  some 
poor  fallen  woman,  or  kindly  trying  to  raise  a  publican 
from  his  degradation,  I  can  imagine  them  asking,  with 
the  sneer  of  a  fiend  and  the  tongue  of  a  serpent,  Can 
that  be  David's  son  ? — the  son  of  him  who  said, 
Blessed  is  the  man  that  standeth  not  in  the  way  of 
sinners  !  I  am  a  companion  of  all  them  that  fear 
Thee.  I  have  not  sat  with  vain  persons,  neither 
will  I  go  in  with  dissemblers ;  I  have  hated  the  con- 
gregation of  evil-doers,  and  will  not  sit  with  the 
wicked  ? 

17 


194  THJS   PAKABLES. 

It  was  the  purest  love  which  drew  our  Lord  to 
sinners.  He  was  among  them,  but  holy,  harmless, 
and  undefined — separate,  as  oil  among  the  water  it 
swims  in,  or  as  the  sunbeam  which,  lighting  up  the  dun 
and  dusty  air,  passes  through  it  without  contracting 
the  slightest  stain.  Yet  with  such  vile  aspersions  was 
Jesus  rewarded  for  leaving  the  bosom  of  his  Father, 
and  the  society  of  angels,  to  save  the  lost !  A  physi- 
cian, suddenly  summoned  to  the  bed  of  poverty  and 
disease,  leaves  his  home  to  face,  the  pelting,  midnight 
storm,  and  spend  the  hours  others  give  to  rest  en- 
deavoring, with  all  tenderness  and  highest  skill,  to 
alleviate  the  agony  and  save  the  life  of  some  miserable 
wretch  who,  as  she  quaffed  the  cup  of  vice,  has  reached 
its  lowest,  bitterest  dregs ;  and  foul-tongued  slanderers 
take  occasion,  from  this  act  of  pure,  self-denying,  and 
unrewarded  benevolence,  to  cast  reflections  on  his 
habits  or  his  heart.  Though  nothing  is  more  painful 
than  to  have  kind  and  good  and  noble  and  generous 
actions  imputed  to  the  basest  motives,  yet  the  followers 
of  Christ  need  not  wonder,  or  be  deterred  from  doing 
good  by  having  that  wrong  to  suffer.  As  this  case 
shows,  their  Lord  himself  was  not  exempt  from  it.  He 
was  tried  in  all  points  like  as  we  are ;  and  when  his 
people  find,  by  a  similar  experience,  that  the  servant 
is  no  better  off  than  his  Master,  nor  the  disciple  than 
his  Lord,  would  God  they  were  able  to  copy  his  pattern 
— to  copy  it  as  faithfully  as  a  warrior  did  on  a  late 
battle-field !  Riding  over  the  ground  when  the  fight 
was  done,  he  came,  as  he  picked  his  steps  among  the 
dead,  to  a  body  which,  stirring,  showed  some  signs  of 


LOST   PIECE    OF   MONEY.  195 

life.  The  bleeding  form  wore  the  dress  of  a  foe.  Re- 
gardless of  that,  he  said  to  his  attendant,  "  Give  him 
a  draught  of  wine;"  and,  as  the  officer  stooped  down 
to  do  so,  the  wounded  soldier,  discovering,  through  the 
mists  that  were  gathering  on  his  dying  eye,  in  this 
good  Samaritan  the  general  of  the  troops  against 
which  he  had  been  fighting,  raised  himself  on  his 
elbow,  drew  a  pistol,  and  with  deadly  hate,  fired  it  at 
his  benefactor's  head.  Happily,  the  bullet  missed  its 
mark ;  and  the  general,  so  soon  as  he  recovered  from 
his  surprise,  with  a  forgiveness  truly  magnanimous 
said,  "  Give  it  him  all  the  same !  "  But  the  attack 
made  on  our  Lord's  character  under  cover  of  the  re- 
mark, This  man  receiveth  sinners,  did  more  than  pre- 
sent Him  with  an  opportunity  of  patiently  bearing 
wrong,  and  generously  forgiving  the  wrong-doer. 
Though  we  have  not  to  thank  his  enemies  for  the  vile 
aspersion,  we  have  to  thank  God  that  he  permitted -it. 
In  the  words  of  Joseph,  God  meant  it  unto  good.  To 
this  attack  we  owe  our  Lord's  noble  and  unanswerable 
defence, — those  three  beautiful  and  blessed  parables 
which,  explaining  why  he  did  not  shun  but  rather 
sought  the  company  of  sinners,  have  kindled  hope  in 
the  bosom  of  despair,  and  encouraged  thousands,  like 
the  poor  prodigal,  to  return  to  their  Father's  house 
and  cast  themselves  on  his  boundless  mercy.  To  crush 
some  plants,  is  to  bring  out  their  poisonous  juices  and 
their  offensive  odors ;  but  Jesus — and,  to  some  extent, 
all  true  Christians  resemble  him — resembled  the  sweet- 
brier  and  rosemary,  the  lowly  thyme  and  the  ever- 
green myrtle,  which  smell  the  sweetest  when  they  ara 


THK    PAKABLES. 

hardest  crushed, — bathing  with  fragrance  the  hands 
that  bruise  them. 

Before  directing  our  attention  specially  to  the  par- 
able before  us,  and  the  woman  who,  with  lighted  candle 
and  broom  in  hand,  is  sweeping  her  dusty  floor,  I  may 
remark — 

First,  that  all  these  three  parables  are  told  for  the 
same  purpose  ;  and  that,  though  to  cursory  readers 
they  may  appear  the  same  in  their  matter  as  in  their 
object,  they  are  not  so.  They  are  not,  like  the  re- 
verberations of  thunder,  mere  echoes  of  one  peal ; 
nor,  in  following  up  the  first  parable  with  the  second 
and  the  second  with  the  third,  is  our  Lord,  to  borrow 
a  figure  from  his  old  trade,  like  a  carpenter  who  seeks 
by  repeated  blows  of  the  same  hammer  to  drive  a  nail 
in  to  the  head.  These  parables  were  all  told  to  show 
why  Christ  sought  sinners,  and  to  encourage  sinners  to 
seek  Him.  But  there  are  sinners  of  different  shades 
of  character ;  and  these,  that  none  might  despair,  are 
described  under  three  different  figures  : — that  stupid, 
senseless  wanderer,  the  lost  sheep  ;  that  piece  of  money 
which,  devoid  of  sensibility  and  unconscious  of  its  fall, 
lies  in  the  dust,  and  feels  no  desire  whatever  to  be 
otherwise ;  and  that  wretched  prodigal — born  in  happy 
circumstances,  well  and  kindly  and  piously  reared — 
who  acts  from  his  own  bad  will,  with  wicked  determi- 
nation resists  a  father's  authority,  and,  sinning  against 
light  and  conscience,  leaves  home  to  plunge  overhead 
into  the  foulest  depths  of  vice. 

Secondly,  I  remark,  in  regard  to  these  parables, 
that  by  itself  none  of  the  throe  gives  a  complete 


THE   LOST   PIECE    OF    MONET.  197 

picture  of  the  method  of  salvation.  To  see  God 
aright  as  saving  man,  and  man  as  saved  by  God,  we 
must,  if  I  may  say  so,  dovetail  them  into  each  other, 
and  make  one  picture  of  the  three.  For  example, 
beautiful,  touching,  and  instructive  as  is  the  story  of 
the  prodigal,  still  it  gives  no  adequate  idea  of  the  part 
which  God  acts  in  our  salvation.  No  doubt  the  father, 
so  soon  as  he  catches  sight  of  the  penitent  yet  a  great 
way  off,  runs  to  meet  him,  and,  ere  the  words  of  con- 
fession have  left  his  lips,  folds  him  to  his  bosom  in  the 
embraces  of  a  free,  full,  flowing,  overflowing  forgive- 
ness. But  he  does  not  send  for  him.  No  kind  letters 
full  of  tender  entreaties,  no  servant  from  the  father's 
house,  ever  reaches  the  miserable  swineherd ;  far  less 
are  the  household  amazed  to  see  the  father  himself,  or 
by  his  other  and  elder  son,  go  forth,  leaving  home  and 
its  pleasures  all  behind,  to  seek  the  poor  prodigal  in 
the  far  country  to  which  his  steps  have  carried  him, 
and  amid  the  misery  in  which  his  sins  have  plunged 
him.  There  is  an  elder  brother  here ;  but  how  unlikt 
ours  !  Careless  of  a  brother's  fate,  he  stays  at  home  at 
ease ;  nor  thinks  of  seeking  him  whose  infant  steps  he 
had  guided,  and  with  whom,  when  the  day's  play  was> 
over,  he  had  slept  on  one  couch,  the  arms  of  the  two 
boys  entwined  around  each  other's  necks.  He  neither 
regrets  his  absence,  nor  rejoices  at  his  return.  Selfish 
and  sulky,  angry  and  jealous,  that  elder  brother  is  a 
foil  to  ours.  Instructive  picture  as  this  is  of  a  sinner's 
misery  and  a  penitent's  heart,  and  of  the  joyous  wel- 
come given  to  the  worst  who  repent  and  return,  it  ia 
the  other  parables  more  than  this  that  present  a 
17* 


198  THE    PARABLES. 

picture  of  God, — how  he  feels  toward  sinners,  and 
what  he  does  to  save  them.  In  these  ve  see  God 
seeking  our  salvation;  not  waiting  till  we  go  to  him, 
but  coming  to  us — to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost.  The 
heart  of  man  beats  in  the  story  of  the  prodigal ;  but 
in  this  the  heart  of  God.  There  we  see  man  saved  ; 
here  we  see  God  saving.  Such  is  the  meaning  of  the 
parable,  where  a  woman,  having  ten  pieces  of  silver 
and  losing  one  of  them,  lights  a  candle,  sweeps  the 
house,  and  seeks  diligently  till  she  find  it. 

WHAT   BEFELL   THIS   WOMAN  ? 

She  had  ten  pieces  of  silver,  and  of  these  she  \ot-t 
one.  But  one  out  of  the  ten  coins  was  lost ;  but  one 
out  of  the  hundred  sheep  went  astray  ;  but  one  member 
of  the  "certain  man's"  family  became  a  prodigal;  al- 
though the  numbers  of  those  not  lost  in  these  parables 
differ,  only  one  in  each  case  was  lost.  Are  we  to  infer 
from  that  circumstance,  that  ours  is  the  only  world 
which  has  been  cursed  by  sin  ?  We  are  certain  that 
there  are  many  worlds  besides  our  own  ;  and  that — with 
all  the  twinkling  stars  we  see,  and  millions  we  do  not 
see,  suns  around  which  there  probably  roll  worlds  cor- 
responding to  the  planets  of  our  solar  system — this 
earth  bears  no  more  proportion  to  creation  than  one 
quivering  leaf  to  the  foliage  of  a  giant  tree,  it  may 
be  to  all  the  leaves  of  a  boundless  forest;  than  a 
single  grain  of  sand  to  all  the  sands  that  form  the 
shores  or  strew  the  bed  of  ocean.  Why  should  not 
we  hope  that  Satan  has  never  winged  his  way  to  those 
bright  realms,  nor  set  foot  on  them  ;  and  that,  like 


THE    LOST   PIECE    OF   JFOXEY.  199 

the  one  lost  sheep  of  the  flock,  the  one  lost  piece  of 
money,  the  one  prodigal  of  the  family,  ours  is  the 
only  world  that,  leaving  its  orbit,  has  wandered  into 
darkness  and  away  from  God  ?  It  adds  much  to  the 
glory  of  the  starry,  firmament,  to  look  up  and  believe 
that  those  spheres  are  the  abodes  of  innocence ; — not 
prisons  of  suffering,  but  palaces  of  pure  delights,  with 
virtues  brilliant  as  their  light,  and  inhabitants,  what- 
ever be  their  form,  as  loyal  to  their  God  as  are  the 
worlds  they  inhabit  to  the  suns  round  which  they  roll ; 
and  that,  had  we  ears  as  we  have  eyes  to  reach  them, 
from  those  beautiful  stars  we  should  hear  as  they 
rolled  nightly  over  us,  when  the  lark  has  dropped  into 
her  dewy  nest  and  the  busy  city  has  sunk  to  slumber, 
and  the  din  of  the  world  is  hushed,  voices  in  the  sky, 
such  as  John  heard  like  the  sound  of  many  waters, 
or  the  shepherds  when  they  listened  to  the  angels 
singing. 

But,  whoever  may  be  meant  by  the  nine  pieces  of 
silver  which  were  not  lost,  it  is  man's  soul  which  is 
certainly  meant  by  the  one  which  was ;  nor,  in  some 
respects,  could  any  figure  so  well  express  our  natu- 
rally depraved,  degraded,  and  undone  condition.  We 
were  not  always,  not  once,  not  at  first,  what  we  are 
now.  On  its  issue  from  the  mint,  this  foul,  defaced, 
dusty,  and  dishonored  coin  was  bright ;  stamped  with 
the  image  and  superscription  of  a  king.  Even  so  man 
was  originally  made  in  the  likeness  of  God :  on  the 
pure,  untarnished  metal  of  his  soul  God  impressed  his 
own  holy  image.  And  still  in  reason,  in  conscience, 
in  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  in  noble  aspirations 


200  THE    PAKABLE6. 

after  immortality  and  in  many  things  else  which  dis- 
tinguish him  from  the  brutes  that  perish,  there  re- 
main such  traces  of  his  original  state  as  we  see  of 
its  ancient  glory  in  the  hoary  battlements  of  an  old 
ruin ;  or,  according  to  the  figure  of  this  parable,  as 
we  see  in  a  foul,  worn,  rusted  coin,  with  here  a  letter, 
and  there  a  mutilated  feature  of  its  original  image 
and  superscription.  But  sin,  deforming  man's  soul 
more  than  death  his  body,  has  defaced  this  likeness, 
and,  till  God  seeks  and  his  Spirit  renews  us,  has  left  us 
buried  amid  the  foulness  and  dust  of  corruption  ;  so 
that  one  might  fancy  that  it  was  over  not  Abraham's, 
but  all  Adam's  race,  the  bearded  prophet  stood,  and 
raised,  as  he  contemplated  their  miserable  ruin,  this 
lamentable  cry,  "  How  is  the  gold  become  dim  !  how  is 
the  most  fine  gold  changed !  the  stones  of  the  sanc- 
tuary are  poured  out  in  the  top  of  every  street.  The 
precious  sons  of  Zion,  comparable  to  fine  gold,  how  are 
they  esteemed  as  earthen  pitchers,  the  work  of  the 
hands  of  the  potter  !" 

Not  only  this  parable  but  all  Scripture  represents  us 
as  lost.  Yet  there  is  hope  in  the  very  circumstances 
in  which  we  are  lost.  Tha  case  is  bad,  but  not  so  bad 
as  we  can  imagine  it  to  have  been.  It  is  unfortunate 
to  lose  a  piece  of  money  in  the  house,  but  much 
more  so  in  a  field,  or  on  a  moor.  Lost  in  the  moun- 
tain fills  a  mother  with  alarm  for  her  child ;  but  lost 
at  sea  strikes  her  down  with  despair.  Be  it  money 
or  a  living  man,  whatever,  falling  werboard  and  dis- 
appearing beneath  the  wave,  is  borne  by  its  weight 
down  and  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep,  is  certainly, 


THE   LOST   PIECE    OF    MONEY.  201 

for  ever,  lost ;  and  therefore  God  employs  this  figure 
to  set  forth  his  full  and  everhsting  forgiveness  of  his 
people's  sins.  Enraptured  with  the  thought,  "Who," 
exclaims  Micah,  "  is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  that  par- 
doneth  iniquity  and  passeth  by  the  transgression  of 
the  remnant  of  his  heritage  ?  He  retaineth  not  his 
anger  forever,  because  he  delighteth  in  mercy.  He 
will  turn  again ;  he  will  have  compassion  upon  us  ;  he 
will  subdue  our  iniquities :  and  thou  wilt  cast  all  their 
sins  into  the  depths  of  the  sea."  Sins  forgiven  are 
lost  in  the  sea ;  but  souls  under  condemnation  of  the 
law  and  in  danger  of  hell,  are  lost  in  the  house. 
Though  deformed  by  sin  and  defiled  by  corruption, 
yet,  being  within  the  house,  thank  God,  they  are 
within  the  region  of  hope  and  the  reach  of  mercy. 
And  with  infinite  love  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  infinite 
mercy  in  the  bosom  of  God,  and  infinite  grace  in  the 
Holy  Spirit,  I  despair  of  none  being  redeemed,  any 
more  than  of  the  coin  being  recovered,  though  it  had 
rolled  into  the  darkest  nook  of  the  house,  now  that  the 
woman  has  lighted  her  candle  and  swept  the  floor  and 
cleared  out  every  corner  with  her  broom,  and,  stooping 
down,  is  turning  the  dust-heap  over  and  over — seeking 
till  the  lost  be  found.  So  Jesus  came,  and  so  \ie  comes., 
to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost. 

WHAT    THIS    WOMAN   DID   TO   FIND    THE    MONEY, 

She  did  everything  proper  in  the  circumstances. 
Indeed  she  could  not  do  inore  than  she  did, — image, 
though  faint,  of  that  work,  the  wonder  of  astonished 
heayens  and  the  highest  subject  of  angels'  praise,  of 


202  THE    PARABLES. 

which,  pointing  to  his  Son,  the  bleeding  victim  of  the 
accursed  tree,  God  asks,  "  What  could  have  been  done 
more  for  iny  vineyard,  that  I  have  not  done  in  it?" 
In  regard  to  the  steps  which  she  took,  we  are,  in  judg- 
ing of  their  propriety  and  necessity,  to  remember  that 
Eastern  houses  are  not  constructed  on  the  style  of  ours 
— pierced  as  they  are  with  many  windows  to  admit  the 
welcome  sunlight.  In  climates  where  comfort  lies 
rather  in  excluding  than  admitting  the  rays  of  a  burn- 
ing sun,  the  houses  are  built  of  dead  walls ;  and  the 
rooms  in  consequence  are  dark  even  in  the  daytime. 
Therefore  this  woman  lights  a  candle  to  see  with,  and 
eearch  the  house.  In  point  of  condition  as  well  as 
construction,  houses  in  the  East  differ  from  ours.  The 
habits  of  the  people  are  not  cleanly ;  and  the  floors, 
being  formed  of  dried  mud,  are  dusty  as  well  as  the 
rooms  dark ;  the  fitter  emblem  such  houses  of  our  na- 
tural state — a  darkened  head  and  a  polluted  heart. 
Besides  lighting  a  candle,  therefore,  the  woman  seizes 
a  broom,  and  bending  eager  to  her  task,  with  candle 
lowered  to  the  ground,  she  sweeps  it ;  nor,  breathing 
the  choking  air  and  moving  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  ceases 
till  the  coin,  swept  up,  rings  on  the  floor,  or  the  light 
flashes  on  its  silver  edges ;  and  gladly  seizing  it,  she 
holds  it  aloft,  and  rushing  out  in  the  fulness  of  her  joy, 
calls  her  neighbors  to  rejoice  in  her  success. 

We  might  like  to  know  with  certainty  what  char- 
acter the  woman  here  represents  on  the  stage.  But, 
though  that  point  were  as  obscure  as  was  her  person 
amid  the  cloud  of  dust  her  broom  had  raised  in  the 
dark  and  dirty  house,  the  candle  shining  in  her  hand 


THE   LOST   PIECE    OF   MONEY.  203 

is  undoubtedly  the  Bible,  God's  revealed  Word.  As- 
suming that  she  symbolizes  the  Spirit  of  God,  it  is 
when  He  takes  that  heavenly  light,  and,  carrying  it 
into  the  recesses  of  a  man's  soul,  reveals  its  foulness 
and  danger  and  misery,  that  the  sinner  discovers  his 
loss ;  and,  feeling  his  need  of  a  Saviour,  cries,  What 
shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? — Create  in  me  a  clean  heart, 
0  God !  As  to  the  sweeping,  which  disturbs  the  house 
and  reveals  a  foulness  that  so  long  as  it  lay  unstirred 
was  perhaps  never  suspected,  that  may  indicate  the 
convictions,  the  alarms,  the  dread  discoveries,  the 
searchings  and  agitations  of  heart,  which  not  unfre- 
quently  accompany  conversion.  It  is  not  till  the  glassy 
pool  is  stirred  that  the  mud  at  the  bottom  rises  to 
light;  it  is  when  storms  sweep  the  sea  that  what  it 
hides  in  its  depths  is  thrown  up  on  the  shore  ;  it  is 
when  brooms  sweep  walls  and  floor  that  the  sunbeams, 
struggling  through  a  cloud  of  dust,  reveal  the  foulness 
of  the  house  ;  and  it  is  agitations  and  perturbations  of 
the  heart  which  reveal  its  corruption,  and  are  preludes 
to  the  purity  and  peace  that  sooner  or  later  follow  on 
conversion.  That  money  was  not  recovered  without  a 
great  disturbance  within  the  house ;  nor  are  souls, 
especially  such  as  have  been  long  and  deeply  sunk  in 
sin,  commonly  converted  without  great  trials,  agita- 
tions, and  searchings  of  heart.  But,  be  their  seat  a 
diseased  body  or  a  troubled  mind,  how  welcome  should 
we  make  the  sufferings  which  bring  us  to  Christ,  and 
end  in  our  salvation — humbling  us  in  the  dust — wean- 
ing our  affections  from  earth  and  wedding  them  to 
heaven ! 


204  THE    PAHABLES. 

This  scene,  though  expressing  the  general  truth  that 
God  has  done  everything  to  save  lost  souls  which  even* 
He  could  do,  conveys  no  idea  whatever  of  the  price  of 
our  salvation — at  what  an  incalculable  ransom  we  were 
redeemed.  The  curtain  rises,  and  the  stage  shows  us 
the  interior  of  a  house,  and  a  woman,  dimly  seen 
through  a  cloud  of  dust,  who  is  quietly,  though  care- 
fully, sweeping  the  floor.  There  is  no  dying,  no  dread 
fa]  deed  of  violence,  no  mortal  struggle,  here ;  no 
blood  bespatters  the  walls,  or  creeps  in  red  stream 
over  the  floor ;  no  passer-by  starts  and  listens,  and 
thinks  he  hears  blows  and  groans  issuing  from  within. 
There  is  nothing  indicative  of  Christ  having  sacrificed 
his  life  for  ours.  The  nature  of  the  parable  does  not 
admit  of  it ;  yet  we  are  never  to  forget  that  it  was 
through  suffering  as  well  as  seeking  that  we  were 
saved ;  and  that,  to  redeem  us,  God  spared  not  even 
his  own  Son — commending  his  love  to  us  in  that,  while 
we  were  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us. 

THE  WOMAN'S  JOY  AT  FINDING  THE  PIECE  OP 

SILVER. 

There  is  a  peculiar  pleasure  felt  in  recovering  what 
we  have  lost ;  or  in  having  anything  placed  beyond  the 
reach  of  danger  which  we  were  afraid  of  losing.  A 
group  of  children  with  health  blooming  on  their  rosy 
cheeks,  joy  ringing  in  their  merry  laughter,  vigor 
bounding  in  thair  frames  as  they  chase  the  butterfly  or 
each  other  over  the  flowery  lawn,  is  a  sight  to  gladden 
any,  but  especially  a  parent's  eye;  yet  it  is  a  deeper 
joy  to  look  on  the  pallid  face  and  languid  form  of  the 


THH    1.0ST    PIECE    OF   MONEY.  205 

child  *>ho,  propped  up  on  pillows  and  an  object  still  of 
care  and  trouble  never  grudged,  has  been  plucked  from 
the  jaws  of  death — brought  back  from  the  very  gates 
of  the  grave.  No  boat  making  the  harbor  over  a 
glassy  sea,  its  snowy  canvas  filled  by  the  gentle  breeze 
and  shining  on  the  blue  waters  like  a  sea-bird's  wing, 
is  watched  with  such  interest,  or,  as  with  sail  flapping 
on  the  mast  it  grates  on  the  shingle,  is  welcomed  with 
such  joy,  as  one  which,  leaving  the  wreck  on  the 
thundering  reef,  comes  through  the  roaring  tempest, 
boldly  breasts  the  billows,  and  bringing  off  the  half- 
drowned,  half-dead  survivors,  shoots  within  the  harbor 
amid  flowing  tears  and  cheers  that,  bursting  from  the 
happy  crowd,  rise  above  the  rage  and  din  of  elements. 
No  gathering  of  an  unbroken,  happy,  prosperous  fam- 
ily in  their  old  home  on  the  return  of  a  birthday,  or 
at  Christmas  time,  ever  filled  a  father's  heart  with 
such  gratitude  and  gladness,  as  was  felt  in  the  house 
where,  while  the  prodigal  sat  encircled  by  his  father's 
arm,  each  happier  than  the  other,  the  music  that  filled 
the  air,  the  wine  that  flowed  in  bowls,  the  floor  that 
shook  to  the  dancers'  feet,  but  feebly  expressed  the 
deep  though  silent  joy  which  welled  up  -,n  the  old 
man's  heart.  By  such  scenes  a  gracious  Gjd,  accom- 
modating his  language  to  our  ideas,  expresses  his  joy 
in  saving  sinners,  and  in  seeing  sinners  saved.  To  en- 
tertain any  other  idea  of  him  is  to  do  injustice  to  his 
gracious  character  and  to  endanger  our  own  souls. 
"As  I  live,"  saith  the  Lord,  "I  have  no  pleasure  in 
the  death  of  the  wicked." — "What,"  he  asks,  "could 
have  been  done  more  for  iny  vineyard,  that  I  have  not 
18 


206  THE    PAKABLES. 

done  in  it?"  To  the  edge  of  the  grave,  to  the  brink 
of  perdition,  I  see  him  following  the  most  obstinate 
and  headstrong  and  perverse  and  wretched  sinner,  with 
this  earnest  and  most  affectionate  entreaty,  Turn  ye, 
turn  ye,  why  will  ye  die  ?  Some  wretched  and  heart- 
broken creature,  the  flower  which  has  been  trodden  on 
the  street  where  the  villain  hand  that  plucked  had 
thrown  it  when  its  freshness  and  bloom  were  gone — 
one  polluted  in  body  and  in  mind — one  lost  to  virtue 
and  shunned  by  decency — one  for  whom  none  cared 
but  a  mother,  who  clung  to  hope,  and  with  love  burn- 
ing in  its  ashes,  wept  and  prayed  in  secret  for  her  she 
never  named,  is  converted ;  and  think  of  God  in  heaven 
feeling  more  joy  than  the  mother  who  on  a  wild  winter's 
night  has  opened  her  door  to  the  wanderer's  moaning 
cry ;  and  while  she  hastens  to  tell  the  glad  tidings  to 
humble  and  sympathizing  neighbors,  think  of  Him 
telling  them  to  his  angels,  and  calling  them  to  rejoice 
with  him  that  the  dead  is  alive  again  and  the  lost  is 
found ;  think  of  the  joyful  alacrity  with  which  those 
happy,  holy,  spirits  haste,  if  so  employed,  to  do  the 
Saviour's  bidding — prepare  another  mansion  and  weave 
another  crown. 

What  value  belongs  to  these  souls  of  ours,  when  the 
repentance  and  salvation  even  of  one  sinner  is  thought 
worthy  of  being  published  in  heaven  and  sung  to  the 
music  of  angels'  harps  ?  We  may  be  assured  that  it  is 
from  a  dreadful  doom  the  soul  is  saved ;  and  that  it 
was  over  a  fearful  abyss  it  hung  when  Jesus  plucked  it 
from  the  wreck.  Angels  had  not  otherwise  turned  an 
eager  gaze  from  heaven  on  earth,  and  looked  down 


XI IK    LOST    PIECK    OF    MON1CY.  207 

from  their  lofty  realms  to  watch  the  issue  with  breath- 
less interest,  and  feel  such  joy  at  the  result ;  and  as  I 
have  seen  a  man  when  the  wave,  bearing  the  boat  on 
its  foaming  crest,  brought  it  up  to  the  ship's  side,  seize 
the  happy  moment  and  with  one  great  bound  leap  in, 
so  should  sinners,  perilously  hanging  on  the  brink  of 
ruin,  over  perdition,  the  hell  that  yawns  below,  seize 
the  opportunity  to  be  saved.  Willing  and  eager  to 
save,  Christ  stretches  out  his  arms  to  receive  us.  Let 
us  throw  ourselves  on  his  mercy,  crying,  Save  now, 
Lord — Lor  i  save  me,  I  perish ! 


X. 


Matthew  xiii.  3—23. 

THE  first  snowdrop,  the  first  green  leaf  on  naked 
hedges,  the  first  few  notes  that  sounding  from  bush  or 
tree  break  the  long,  dreary  silence  —  still  more  the  first 
smile  that  lights  up  an  infant's  face,  its  first  gleam  of 
intelligence,  its  first  broken  word,  possess  an  interest 
arid  yield  a  pleasure  peculiar  to  themselves.  With 
more  interest  still  —  did  the  world  hold  such  treasures 
—  would  we  look  on  the  first  stanzas  of  Homer's  muse  ; 
the  first  attempt  of  Archimedes'  skill  ;  the  first  oration 
of  Demosthenes  ;  the  first  sermon  of  Chrysostom  ;  the 
first  sketch  of  Rubens  ;  though  we  could  hope  to  see 
nothing  in  these  but  the  dawn  of  talents,  which,  at 
maturity,  produced  their  splendid  works,  and  won  them 
immortal  fame.  What  gives  the  interest  to  these  things, 
gives  a  peculiar  interest  to  this  parable.  Others  may 
be  as  instructive  and  as  beautiful,  but  of  all  those 
parables  that  he  strung  like  pearls  on  the  thread  of 
his  discourses,  this  is  the  first  Jesus  ever  spake.  As 
peculiarly  befitting  him  who  came  to  sow  saving  truths 
broadcast  on  the  world,  no  subject  could  form  a  more 
18*  (209) 


210  THE   PAKABLES. 

suitable  introduction ;  and  with  the  divine  skill  with 
which  he  chooses,  Jesus  handles  the  topic.  For  though 
his  first,  this  parable  bears  no  trace  of  the  feebleness 
and  imperfections  that  mark  other,  the  greatest,  men's 
earliest  efforts — another  illustration  this  of  the  words 
"He  spake  as  never  man  spake,"  as  with  his  foot  on 
the  waves,  He  walked  as  never  man  walked. 

The  circumstances  in  which  our  Lord  was  placed 
while — in  addition  to  his  look  and  voice — imparting  to 
this  discourse  an  impressiveness  and  liveliness  which  it 
loses  within  the  dull  walls  either  of  church  or  room, 
very  probably  gave  it  its  color  and  form.  A  crowd 
eager  to  catch  every  word  that  fell  from  his  blessed 
lips,  surging  and  pressing  forward,  besieged  the  house, 
where,  now  answering  the  cavils  of  the  Pharisees,  and 
now  expounding  the  mysteries  of  the  Gospel,  he  talked 
to  the  people.  Kind  and  considerate,  our  Lord — since 
faith  cometh  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by  the  Word  of 
God — that  all  might  hear  left  the  house ;  and,  followed 
by  a  rushing,  gathering  throng,  takes  his  way  to  the 
shores  of  the  neighboring  lake.  There  is  room  enough 
for  all  there.  On  reaching  it  he  enters  a  boat,  con- 
verting it  into  a  pulpit ;  and  when  by  a  few  strokes 
of  the  oars  in  John's  or  Peter's  hands,  the  boat  is  shot 
a  short  way  out,  he  turns  to  address  the  multitude  who 
throng  the  shore — sitting  or  standing,  tier  above  tier, 
on  its  shelving  sides.  Lighted  by  the  sun,  its  roof 
heaven's  own  lofty  dome,  its  walls  the  hills  that  girdled 
the  lake,  which,  shining  like  a  silver  mirror,  lay  still 
and  quiet  at  its  Maker's  feet,  what  edifice  of  man's 
ever  offered  preacher  such  a  noble  temple  ?  The 


THE    PARABLE    OF   THE    SOWEB.  2H 

preacher  was  in  keeping  with  the  temple ;  no  Barnabas, 
or  Boanerges  among  the  sons  of  the  mighty  to  be 
likened  to  him  who  then  and  there,  from  the  rude 
pulpit  of  a  fishing-boat,  consecrated  shores,  and  fields, 
and  hillsides  for  worship — teaching  his  servants  to  sow 
beside  all  waters,  to  be  instant  in  season  and  out  of 
season  ;  and  with  all  respect  to  the  ordinary  places 
and  forms  of  divine  service,  to  seize,  without  much  re- 
gard either  to  time  or  place,  every  opportunity  of 
preaching  the  blessed  Gospel,  and  of  saving' them  that 
are  ready  to  perish.  To  fancy  aright  this  scene,  we 
must  remember  that  the  hills  of  Galilee,  unlike  those 
by  some  of  our  wild  Highland  lochs,  do  not  descend 
right  into  the  lake ;  nor,  coming  down  steep  and  rocky, 
leave  but  a  narrow  footpath  on  the  margin  of  the  water. 
On  the  contrary,  and  especially  on  the  western  shores, 
between  the  feet  of  these  hills  and  the  lake,  lies  a 
broad  belt  of  land,  sloping  gently  down  to  the  beach ; 
and  in  our  Lord's  days,  when  the  country  teemed  with 
inhabitants,  and  the  shores  all  around  were  studded 
with  towns  and  villages,  this  was  cultivated  by  busy 
husbandmen,  and  rewarded  their  labor  with  abundant 
harvests.  Now,  it  was  on  one  of  these  fields  which 
rose  behind  the  throng,  that  our  Lord's  eye  caught  the 
object  which  suggested  this  parable.  A  man,  very 
probably,  like  Martha,  cumbered  about  many  things, 
with  a  large  family  to  support,  with  a  heavy  rent  to 
meet,  who  thought  he  had  no  time,  and  perhaps  had  no 
inclination  to  drop  work  and  join  the  crowd,  comes 
forth  from  his  house  to  sow.  Jesus  seizes  the  incident 
as  the  text  for  a  sermon,  a  groundwork  for  instruction ; 


212  THE   PARABLES. 

and  waving  his  hand  so  as  to  turn  the  eyes  of  the  as- 
sembly on  the  husbandman,  He  begins  the  parable, 
Baying,  "Behold,  a  sower  went  forth  to  sow." 

This  man,  let  it  be  observed,  was  not  sowing  a  field 
like  those  around  this  city,  where  with  hedge  or  wall 
the  farmer  fences  his  field  from  wandering  feet ;  and 
by  breaking  up  the  rough  parts  of  the  ground,  care- 
fully weeding  the  foul,  and  feeding  the  bare  and  barren, 
gives  a  uniform  aspect  to  the  whole.  Agriculture, 
stimulated  by  trade  or  the  pressure  of  population  on 
the  means  of  subsistence,  has  made  great  progress 
since  our  Lord's  days — rising  from  a  comparatively 
rude  art  to  the  position  of  a  science.  And  to  enter 
fully  into  the  scene  of  this  parable  and  the  meaning  of 
its  different  parts,  we  must  therefore  leave  these  fat 
and  fertile  plains,  to  transport  ourselves  to  those  re- 
mote districts  of  the  country  where  old  customs  linger, 
and  the  natural  features  of  the  landscape  resemble 
those  of  the  shores  of  Galilee.  We  find  what  we  want 
in  many  of  our  Highland  glens — the  shores  of  their 
lakes  presenting  a  counterpart  of  the  field  whose  differ- 
ent features  are  woven  into  this  parable.  There,  lead- 
ing to  a  well,  or  to  the  nook  where  the  boat  lies 
moored,  or  to  a  neighbor's  cottage,  or  to  the  parish 
church,  we  may  see  an  old  pathway  skirting  the  bor- 
ders of  the  field,  or  running  right  across  it — in  those 
places  where  the  plough  has  rolled  or  rains  have 
washed  it  down,  the  soil  lies  deep — elsewhere,  on 
gravel  or  rocky  knolls,  it  is  poor  and  shallow — while 
here  and  there  springing  from  cairns  of  stone?,  or 
parts  imperfectly  cleared  and  cultivated,  whin  and 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.          213 

broom,  the  wild  rose,  ferns,  birches  and  dwarf-willows, 
lend  a  beauty  to  the  field  which  is  more  picturesque 
than  profitable.  In  the  corresponding  features  of  that 
field  which  lay  in  sight  of  his  floating  pulpit,  Jesus 
saw  striking  emblems  of  the  hearers  of  his  own,  and 
also  of  every  other,  congregation.  As  such  he  uses 
them ;  and  bringing  to  his  task  the  unrivaled  skill 
which  turned  birds  into  teachers,  drew  the  noblest 
truths  out  of  the  meanest  subjects,  and  found  in  com- 
mon things  fresh  texts  for  uncommon  sermons,  he 
reaped  a  harvest  from  this  field  other  and  better  far 
than  sickles  had  ever  done.  Its  owner  had  never  cul- 
tivated it  to  such  purpose  as  the  Great  Husbandman. 
The  preacher  makes  more  of  it  than  the  plough ;  no 
part  lies  barren  in  Jesus'  hands ;  no  golden  crops  that 
bowed  their  heads  to  the  winds  which  swept  the  lake 
of  Galilee  like  the  truths  he  drew  from  its  different 
soils  ! — in  solemn  and  salutary  warnings,  in  the  reve- 
lation of  his  work,  of  his  character,  and  of  his  gospel, 
making  it  yield  a  perpetual  harvest  of  the  bread  of 
life,  for  the  use  of  his  own  and  all  future  ages. 

THE   SOWER. 

Sheltered  from  the  winds  that  played  on  the  breezy 
summits  of  the  mountains,  the  lake  of  Galilee  reflected 
the  face  and  form  of  Jesus — his  image  was  mirrored  in 
its  glassy  depths.  And  such  a  mirror  is  this  parable  ; 
presenting  in  the  sower  a  true  emblem  and  image  of 
Christ  himself.  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt, 
though  he  does  not  say  so  in  as  many  words  ;  saying, 
in  his  explanation  of  the  parable,  I  am  the  Sower,  as. 


214  THE    PARABLES. 

pointing  on  one  occasion  to  a  vine  clasping  in  its  arma 
a  rock,  which  it  clothed  with  broad  leaves  and  hung 
with  purple  clusters,  he  said,  I  am  the  Vine ;  or  on  an- 
other occasion,  pointing  to  the  sun,  as  rolling  out  of 
the  shadow  of  a  cloud,  or  springing  up  from  behind  a 
hill,  it  bathed  the  whole  landscape  in  golden  glory,  he 
said,  I  am  the  light  of  the  world.  With  that  kind  and 
tender  love  which  should  touch  and  win  our  hearts, 
Jesus,  leaving  his  Father's  bosom,  descended  on  our 
world  not  only  to  procure,  but  to  preach  salvation ; 
with  his  own  hand  to  sow,  in  the  furrows  that  repen- 
tance had  made,  the  seeds  of  eternal  life.  With  this 
end  in  view  he  sent  the  Baptist  to  proclaim  his  advent, 
and  prepare  his  way.  In  the  order  of  things  plough- 
ing goes  before  sowing.  The  soil  must  be  broken  up, 
and,  stirring  it  to  its  depths,  the  iron  must  enter  its 
bosom,  that  verdure  in  summer  may  clothe,  and  tall 
sheaves  in  autumn  crowd  the  field.  Now,  what  the 
man  with  the  plough  is  to  his  fellow  who,  with  a  sow- 
ing sheet  around  him,  casts  the  grain  into  the  open 
furrows,  John  Baptist,  denouncing  vice,  unmasking 
hypocrites,  sparing  neither  prince  nor  peasant,  priests 
nor  people,  but  calling  all  to  repentance,  was  to  Jesus 
Christ.  He  went  sternly  through  the  land,  like  an 
iron  ploughshare, — breaking  up  the  fallow  ground,  and 
preparing  men  to  receive  the  tidings  of  salvation  which 
Christ  came  to  preach.  Sovereigns  db  sometimes  grant 
pardons  ;  but,  so  far  as  I  know,  they  never  bring  them. 
Little  affected  by  the  miseries  of  the  wretch  whose 
sighs  and  groans  confined  within  stone  walls  never  pe- 
netrate the  palace  to  disturb  the  sleep  or  dash  the 


THE    PARABLE    OF   THE    SOWER.  215 

pleasure  of  the  court,  kings  content  themselves  with 
sending  pardons  through  servants  and  cold  officials ; 
and  such  a  thing  as  one  leaving  his  palace,  bending 
his  steps  to  the  prison,  flying  on  wings  of  love,  with 
his  own  lips  to  announce  the  tidings,  and  hear  with  his 
own  ears,  sound  sweeter  than  finest  music,  the  cry  of 
joy  from  one  plucked  from  the  jaws  of  death,  is  untold 
in  history.  But  Christ  so  loved  us  that  he  came  him- 
self with  the  good  news.  He  who  at  a  great  price 
procured  liberty  to  the  captive  also  proclaimed  it ;  and 
he  who  made  this  earth  stood  on  it  a  preacher  of  salva- 
tion. No  wonder  Paul  magnified  his  office,  considering 
who  had  filled  it ;  and  no  doubt  it  was  the  pleasure 
Jesus  felt  in  the  good  news  he  preached  which  so 
glowed  in  his  countenance,  and  lent  such  tenderness, 
and  power,  and  pathos  to  his  oratory,  that  a  woman 
who  heard  him  cried,  Blessed  is  the  womb  that  bare 
thee, — and  his  very  enemies  confessed,  Never  man 
spake  like  that  man.  Thus  he  sowed.  Would  that  all 
his  servants  caught  his  spirit,  and  came  to  the  pulpit 
wearing  his  mantle ! 

They  are  sowers  also.  Every  preacher  of  the 
Gospel  is  a  sower  of  the  seed :  and  though  the  whole 
scene  of  this  parable  is  now  changed,  and  Galilee's 
lake  lies  among  her  silent  hills,  still  a  beautiful,  but 
now  a  lonely  sheet  of  water — though  her  shores  are 
furrowed  by  no  plough,  and  her  sea  by  no  fisherman's 
keel — though  her  cities  live  only  in  the  pages  of  his- 
tory, and  have  no  place  but  on  the  geographer's  map 
— though  the  traveler  finds  little  there  to  remind  him 
of  Jesus  but  the  waves  that  sustained  his  form,  and 


THE    PABABLES. 

the  storms  that  as  they  sweep  and  vex  the  lake  recall 
the  memorable  night  when,  waked  from  deep  and 
dreamless  slumbers,  he  rose  to  bid  winds  and  waves  be 
still — though  eighteen  hundred  long  years  are  gone, 
still  I  may  make  use  of  the  words  with  which  Jesus 
began  his  first  public  discourse,  when,  having  read  a 
passage  from  Isaiah,  he  closed  the  book  and  lifted  up 
his  head  to  say,  This  day  is  this  Scripture  fulfilled  in 
your  ears.  When  bells  have  rung  out  and  the  con- 
gregation, whether  coming  from  hamlets  and  farms 
along  sweet  country  roads,  or  from  their  houses  through 
dry  and  dusty  streets,  are  assembled,  and  as  they  wait 
in  silence,  a  man  enters  the  pulpit  in  robe  of  office  or  in 
ordinary  attire,  it  may  be  said,  as  truly  as  on  the  day 
when  Christ  was  the  preacher  and  a  boat  the  pulpit, 
Behold,  a  sower  went  forth  to  sow.  It  is  the  same  seed 
•we  sow;  and,  in  their  hearts,  congregations  still  present 
the  same  varieties  of  soil;  but  what  a  difference  be- 
tween this  sower  and  his  successors ;  his  skill  and  our 
rudeness ;  his  power  and  our  weakness ;  his  love  and 
our  cold  affections ;  his  burning  zeal  and  our  feeble 
fires;  the  light  of  the  world  and  the  flame  of  a  taper 
— ay,  the  brightest  star  that  ever  shone  in  the  fir- 
mament of  the  Church  !  Well  may  we  say  with  Paul, 
"Brethren,  pray  for  us!" 

"  Except  the  Lord  do  build  the  house 

The  builders  lose  their  pain, 
Except  the  Lord  the  city  keep 
The  watchmen  watch  in  vain." 

The  Spirit  in  Christ's  day,  not  yet  given  in  showers, 
or  otherwise  than  in  scattered  drops,  even  he  himseli 


THE    PAHABLE    OF    TI1K    SOWER.  217 

sowed  to  little  purpose ;  a  few  hundred  converts  the 
whole  result  of  his  labors,  and  of  such  labors,  how 
little  the  joy,  how  scant  the  harvest?  What,  then, 
can  sustain  the  preacher  in  his  study  or  his  pulpit,  but 
faith  in  the  promises,  in  God's  own  word  that,  by  his 
own  Spirit,  he  will  with  the  foolish  things  of  the  world 
so  confound  the  wise,  and  with  the  weak  things  of  the 
world  so  confound  the  things  that  are  mighty,  that 
"  he  who  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious 
seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bring- 
ing his  sheaves  with  him." 

THE    SEED. 

This,  as  Christ  explains,  is  "  the  word  of  the  King- 
dom,"— those  saving,  Bible  truths  of  which  Paul 
speaks,  saying,  Woe  be  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the 
Gospel.  His  kingdom,  it  is  "  the  kingdom"  by  way 
of  excellence,  there  being  no  other  of  which,  having 
seen  the  rise,  it  shall  not  see  also  the  fall — the  king- 
dom, in  contradistinction  to  those  which,  rivers, 
shores,  or  mountains  bound — many  of  which  founded 
in  injustice,  and  maintained  by  oppression,  have  ty- 
rants for  their  rulers,  and  for  their  subjects  staves  ;  and 
all  of  which,  if  I  may  judge  the  future  by  the  past, 
have  this  course  to  run — born,  they  grow,  arrive  at 
maturity,  flourish  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period,  then 
begin  to  decay ;  and,  sinking  under  the  infirmities  ot 
age,  or  falling  by  the  hands  of  violence,  at  length  ex- 
pire— their  palaces  a  heap  of  ruins,  their  kings  a  hand- 
ful of  dust. 

As  different  from  these  in  its  character  aa  in  ita 
19 


218  THE    PAltABLES. 

duration,  the  kingdom  here  is  that  over  which  Jesus 
reigns — -justice  his  law,  love  his  rule,  mercy  his  sceptre, 
peace  his  government,  and  the  only  weapon  he  em- 
ploys to  conquer  his  enemies  and  govern  his  subjects, 
the  Bible.  By  that  he  rules ;  on  that  his  kingdom 
rests — God's  inspired  Word,  true  without  any  mixture 
of  error,  and  suffering  as  little  from  the  assaults  of 
sceptics,  secret  or  avowed,  as  yon  castle  rock  from  the 
storms  which,  raving  and  howling  around  its  solid 
crags,  have  blown,  but  not  blown  it  away. 

In  regard  to  the  figure  here.  None — not  leaven 
with  its  assimilating  power,  nor  light  with  its  illumi- 
nating rays,  nor  bread  with  its  nutritious  elements, 
nor  water  as  it  springs  sparkling  from  a  mossy  foun- 
tain to  parched  and  thirsty  lips — none  sets  forth 
the  word  of  God  better  than  this  of  seed.  For  ex- 
ample : — 

There  is  life  in  Seed. — Dry  and  dead  as  it  seems,  let 
a  seed  be  planted  with  a  stone-flashing  diamond,  or 
burning  ruby ;  and  while  that  in  the  richest  soil  re- 
mains a  stone,  this  awakes  and,  bursting  its  husky 
shell,  rises  from  the  ground  to  adorn  the  earth  with 
beauty,  perfume  the  air  with  fragrance,  or  enrich  men 
with  its  fruit.  Such  life  there  is. in  all,  but  especially 
in  Gospel,  truth.  It  lives  when  we  die — as  the  old 
martyr  exclaimed,  when  he  stood  bound  to  the  fiery 
stake,  Me  you  may  kill ;  the  truth  you  cannot !  This 
is  the  incorruptible  and  immortal  seed ;  and  though 
ornaments,  polish,  illustrations,  eloquence  in  sermons 
may  help  the  end  in  view,  as  feathers  do  the  arrow's 
flight,  or  their  wings  the  thistle-downs,  as  they  float, 


THE    PAUABLE    OF   T1IE    SOWEK.  219 

sailing  through  the  air,  to  distant  fields,  it  is  to  the 
truth  of  God's  Word,  blessed  by  God's  Spirit,  that 
sinners  owe  their  conversion,  and  saints  their  quicken- 
ing and  comfort  in  the  house  of  God.  The  patient  is 
healed  by  the  medicine,  not  by  what  gilds  it :  the 
hungry  are  fed  by  the  meat,  not  by  what  garnishes  it ; 
these  fields  crowded  with  joyous  reapers  and  covered 
with  golden  sheaves  show  the  life  that  was  in  the  seed, 
not  in  the  sower,  or  in  the  soil ;  and  conversions  being 
due  not  to  the  human  talent  but  to  the  divine  truths  in 
the  sermon,  the  greatest  as  well  as  the  feeblest 
preachers  have  to  say,  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us ;  but 
unto  thee,  0  Lord,  be  all  the  glory ! 

There  is  force  in  Seed. — Buried  in  the  ground  a  seed 
does  not  remain  inert, — lie  there  in  a  living  tomb.  It 
forces  its  way  upward,  and  with  a  power  quite  remark- 
able in  a  soft,  green,  feeble  blade,  pushes  aside  the 
dull  clods  that  cover  it.  Wafted  by  winds  or  dropped 
by  passing  bird  into  the  fissure  of  a  crag,  from  weak 
beginnings  the  acorn  grows  into  an  oak — growing  till 
by  the  forth-putting  of  a  silent  but  continuous  force, 
it  heaves  the  stony  table  from  its  bed,  rending  the  rock 
in  pieces.  But  what  so  worthy  to  be  called  the  power 
as  well  as  the  wisdom  of  God  as  that  Word  which, 
lodged  in  the  mind,  and  accompanied  by  the  divine 
blessing,  fed  by  showers  from  heaven,  rends  hearts, 
harder  than  the  rocks,  in  pieces  ?  "  He  that  hath  my 
word,"  says  God,  "let  him  speak  my  word  faithfully. 
What  is  the  chaff  to  the  wheat,  saith  the  Lord  ?  Is 
not  my  word  like  as  a  fire,  and  like  a  hammer  that 
breaketh  the  rock  in  pieces?" 


220 


THE    I'AKABLKS. 


There  is  a  power  of  propagation  in  Seed. — Thus  a 
single  grain  of  corn  would,  were  the  produce  of  each 
season  sown  again,  so  spread  from  field  to  field,  from 
country  to  country,  from  continent  to  continent,  as  in 
the  course  of  a  few  years  to  cover  the  whole  surface  of 
the  earth  with  one  wide  harvest, — employing  all  the 
sickles,  filling  all  the  barns,  and  feeding  all  the  mouths 
in  the  world.  Such  an  event,  indeed,  could  not  happen 
in  nature,  because  each  latitude  has  its  own  produc- 
tions, and  there  is  no  plant  formed  to  grow  alike 
under  the  sun  of  Africa,  and  amid  the  snows  of  Green- 
land. It  is  the  glory  of  the  Gospel,  and  one  of  the 
evidences  of  its  divine  origin- that  it  can :  and,  unless 
prophecy  fail,  that  it  shall.  There  is  not  a  shore  which 
shall  not  be  sown  with  this  seed ;  not  a  land  but  shall 
yield  harvests  of  glory  to  God  and  of  souls  for  heaven. 
By  revolutions  that  are  overturning  all  things,  by 
war's  rude  and  bloody  share,  and  otherwise,  God  is 
breaking  up  the  fallow  ground,  and  ploughing  the 
earth  for  a  glorious  seed-time.  The  seed  that  sprang 
up  in  Bethlehem  shall  wave  over  arctic  snows  and 
desert  sands :  and  as  every  shore  is  washed  by  one  sea, 
and  every  land  that  lies  between  the  poles  is  girdled 
by  one  atmosphere,  and  every  drop  of  blood  that  flows 
in  human  veins  belongs  to  one  great  family  of  brothers, 
so  in  God's  set  time  men  of  every  color  and  tongue 
shall  cherish  a  common  faith,  and  trust  in  a  common 
Saviour.  It  was  of  that,  and  of  this  seed-time,  the 
Psalmist  spoke,  when  standing  on  the  heights  of  pro- 
phecy, and  looking  along  the  vista  of  distant  ages,  he 
said,  "  There  shall  be  a  handful  of  corn  in  the  earth 


THE   PARABLE   OF   THR   SO\VEB.  221 

on  the  top  of  the  mountains ;  the  fruit  thereof  shall 
shake  like  Lebanon."  "His  name," — referring  to 
Christ — "  His  name  shall  endure  forever ;  men  shall 
be  blessed  in  him,  and  all  nations  shall  call  him 
blessed."  Thus  the  seer  spake;  and  while  we  echo  his 
devout  "  Amen  and  Amen,"  let  us  pray,  Even  so  come, 
Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly  ! 

THE   SOIL. 

Hearers  represented  by  the  Wayside. — "  When  he 
sowed,  some  seeds  fell  by  the  wayside,  and  the  fowls 
came  and  devoured  them  up."  Nothing  more  likely 
to  happen !  No  care,  with  broad  cast  sowing,  could 
prevent  some  seed  falling  on  the  pathway  where,  as 
that  was  beaten  hard  by  the  feet  of  passengers,  it  lay 
exposed  to  birds  which,  as  all  know,  in  spring,  ere 
buds  have  burst,  or  sunny  skies  tempted  insects  forth, 
or  genial  showers  called  worms  from  their  holes,  often 
suffer  from  want  of  food.  Made  bold  by  hunger,  our 
birds,  some  from  the  woods  sailing  on  raven's  wing, 
others  with  snowy  plumage  from  neighboring  shores, 
attend  the  ploughman  as  he  turns  up  the  furrows  and 
their  food;  so  yonder  in  the  fields  of  Galilee  they 
watch  the  motions  of  the  husbandman,  and  sweep 
down  from  rock  or  tree  to  pick  up  the  grains  that  lie 
on  the  beaten  road. 

The  explanation  of  this  scene  Jesus  gives  in  these 
words :  "  When  any  one  heareth  the  word  of  the  king- 
dom, and  understandeth  it  not,  then  cometh  the  wicked 
one,  and  catcheth  away  that  which  was  sown  in  his 
heart:  this  is  he  which  received  seed  by  the  wayside" 
19* 


222  THE    PARABLES. 

— Mark  says,  "  Satan  cometh  immediately,  and  taketh 
away  the  word" — Luke  says,  "  Then  cometh  the  devil, 
and  taketh  away  the  word  out  of  their  hearts,  lest 
they  should  believe  and  be  saved."  Again  1  say. 
nothing  more  likely  to  happen.  Some  who  carefully 
cultivate  their  fields,  or  their  gardens,  or  their  bus- 
iness, or  their  minds,  take  no  pains  whatever  to  cul- 
tivate their  hearts.  The  Bible  neglected,  prayer,  un- 
less as  a  mere  form,  a  plough  passed  over  the  surface, 
unused,  no  serious  thought  given  from  week's  end  to 
week's  end  to  another  world  and  their  precious  souls, 
their  hearts  are  like  ground ,  ploughshare  has  never 
entered.  Worse  still,  in  a  worse  state  than  an  uncul- 
tivated waste,  the  world  with  its  many,  hurrying, 
heavy  feet  has  been  trampling  over  their  poor  hearts 
the  whole  week  through — day  by  day,  year  by  year, 
from  early  childhood,  perhaps,  to  gray  old  age ;  till 
under  the  ceaseless  tread  and  tramp  and  traffic  of 
worldly  thoughts,  unholy  desires,  selfish  and  evil  pas- 
sions, they  have  grown  harder  with  time,  and  become 
as  unimpressible  and  impenetrable  almost  as  a  stone. 
They  are  without  God  in  the  world.  He  is  in  the  sky 
above  and  in  the  earth  beneath  them,  in  the  air  they 
inhale  and  in  the  bread  they  eat,  by  their  side  when 
they  walk  and  by  their  bed  when  they  sleep,  every- 
where but  where  most  of  all  he  should  be :  he  is  not  in 
all  their  thoughts ;  and  bringing  to  his  house  hearts  as 
hard  as  the  flags  they  walk  on,  no  wonder  that  their 
hearing  and  our  preaching  is  vain  ! 

The  case  as  painted  in  this  parable,  and  in  truth, 
— for  this  is  no  fiction, — is  worse  still.     So   bad,  in- 


THE  PARABLE  OF  TUS  SOWER.          223 

deed,  that  but  for  the  mercy  that  pities  the  poorest 
sinners,  and  the  might  that  can  turn  a  heart  of  stone 
into  one  of  flesh,  we  could  cherish  no  hope  of  doing 
them  any  good.  Wherever  there  is  a  preacher  in  the 
pulpit,  there  is  a  devil  among  the  pews,  busy,  watching 
the  words  that  fall  from  the  speaker's  lips  to  catch 
them  away,  and,  by  the  idle,  worldly,  evil  thoughts — 
the  birds  that  pick  up  the  seed — which  he  intru'des  on 
them,  to  prevent  the  word  making  an  impression  or  re- 
move any  it  happens  to  make.  What  an  illustration 
of  this  the  speech  which  a  dying,  despairing  man  ad- 
dressed to  one  under  whose  ministry  he  had  sat  for 
twenty  years  !  I  have  never,  he  cried,  heard  a  single 
sermon  !  The  minister,  to  whom  his  face  was  quite 
familiar,  who  had  known  him  for  years  as  a  regular 
attender  at  church,  looked  astonished — fancied  that,  he 
was  raving  under  the  delirium  of  his  approaching  end. 
No,  not  at  all !  The  man  was  in  his  sad  and  sober 
senses.  I  attended  church,  he  explained,  but  my  habit 
was,  so  soon  as  you  began  the  sermon,  to  begin  a  re- 
view of  last  week's  trade,  and  to  anticipate  and  ar- 
range the  business  of  the  next.  Now,  in  like  manner, 
to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  Satan  deals  with  thousands 
who  occupy  pews  in  the  church.  Doing  so,  distracting 
their  attention,  playing  with  their  fancy,  carrying 
away  their  minds  to  outside  scenes  of  business  or 
pleasure,  "lest  they  should  believe  and  be  saved." 
Thus  he  destroys  souls,  not  in  his  own  devilish  haunts, 
but  in  the  very  house  of  God ;  wrecking  them  at  the 
very  mouth  of  the  harbor ;  slaying  them  on  the  very 
steps  of  the  altar ;  turning  their  attendance  en  or- 


224  THE    PARABLES. 

dinances  into  a  means  of  hardening  their  hearts  and 
aggravating' their  final,  dreadful  doom,  he,  if  I  may  say 
so,  seethes  the  kid  in  its  mother's  milk.  Since  Christ's 
own  presence  did  not  scare  the  fiend  from  the  room 
where  the  disciples  had  met  for  the  Church's  greatest 
and  most  solemn  rite ;  since,  stealing  into  the  chamber, 
he  entered  into  Judas  when  his  hand  was  dipped  into 
the  same  dish  with  Christ's,  how  should  we  watch,  keep 
our  hearts  and  keep  our  feet  when  we  enter  the  house 
of  God, — in  the  words  of  Peter,  Be  sober,  be  vigilant, 
because  our  adversary,  the  Devil,  as  a  roaring  lion, 
walketh  about  seeking  whom  he  may  devour. 

Hearers  represented  by  the  Stony  Ground. — In 
Spring,  before  the  growth  hides  the  ground,  I  have 
seen  fields  sown  out  with  corn  so  thick  of  stones  that 
they  seemed  the  substitutes  for  soil.  I  have  heard 
people  wonder  what  could  induce  any  man  in  his  senses 
to  cultivate  such  land ;  yet  they  would  wonder  more  to 
see  the  crops  such  soil,  where  the  roots  wind  round  the 
stones  and  bore  away  down  in  search  of  food,  yields  to 
the  reaper's  sickle.  It  is  not  such  ground,  though  mis- 
understanding the  term  stony  ground  some  may  sup- 
pose so,  which  is  described  here ;  but  that  which,  while 
the  other  parts  of  the  field  are  green  and  healthy  is 
marked  in  summer  by  a  yellow,  sickly  hue.  There 
the  soil  lies  shallow — spread  like  a  skin  on  bones  of 
rock  :  and  so,  though  a  braird  soon  appears  with  fair 
and  early  promise  of  an  abundant  crop,  the  plants, 
having  no  depth  of  earth,  are  scorched  by  the  sun ; 
and,  drawing  no  nourishment  from  the  rock  which 
their  roots  embrace,  soon  wither  away. 


THE    PARABLE    OP    THE    SOWER.  225 

In  explanation  of  this  part  of  the  parable,  our  Lord 
Bays,  "  He  that  received  the  seed  into  stony  places, 
the  same  is  he  that  heareth  the  word,  and  anon  with 
joy  receivcth  it;  yet  hath  he  not  root  in  himself,  but 
dureth  for  a  while ;  for  when  tribulation  or  persecution 
ariseth  because  of  the  word,  by  and  by  he  is  offended," 
or,  as  it  is  given  by  Luke,  "  They  on  the  rock  are 
they,  which,  when  they  hear,  receive  the  word  with 
joy ;  and  these  have  no  root,  which  for  a  while  believe, 
and  in  time  of  temptation  fall  away."  These  are 
alarming  words.  The  matter  is  more  serious  than  it 
was,  since  other  than  wayside  hearers  miss  heaven. 
What  have  we  here  ?  the  word  listened  to  with  atten- 
tion ;  with  more,  much  more  than  attention  ;  with  such 
feelings  as  a  man  under  sentence  of  death  hears  the 
news  of  his  pardon,  or  men  on  a  wreck,  lashed  to  the 
mast,  hanging  on  the  shrouds,  hear  the  cry,  the  joyful 
cry,  A  boat !  a  life  boat !  People  count  on  heaven  to 
whom  the  Sabbath  is  a  weariness,  and  a  sermon  dul- 
ness ;  yet  here  are  those  who,  though  they  receive  the 
word,  according  to  one  Evangelist,  with  "joy,"  and 
according  to  another  with  "gladness,"  come  short  of 
eternal  life.  Nor  is  the  impression  the  truth  pro- 
duces a  mere  feeling,  a  passing  emotion ;  vanishing 
with  the  tears  it  brings  to  their  eyes ;  going  down  like 
the  sea-swell  when  winds  are  hushed  ;  dying  away  like 
some  sweet  strain  of  music  when  the  fyand  is  removed 
that  struck  the  trembling  strings.  On  the  contrary 
the  impression  passes  out  into  expression ;  they  move 
out  of  the  passive  into  the  active  state — making  a 
good  profession,  and  entering  on  the  practice  of  re- 


226  THE    PARABLES. 

ligion.  More,  and  more  marked  still,  as  the  braird  on 
shallow  ground  rises  sooner  than  that  which  springs 
from  deeper  soil,  the  conversion  (as  it  is  supposed  to  be) 
of  stony  ground  hearers  is  often  marked  by  precocious 
piety,  and  a  forward,  flaming  zeal.  I  have  known 
most  melancholy  instances  of  that ;  and  in  all  such 
cases,  as  some  have  fearfully  illustrated,  the  last  state 
of  such  persons  is  worse  than  the  first.  Let  all  of  us 
take  warning;  let  each  prove  his  own  work — whether  he 
has  in  true,  saving  faith  what  is  the  root  of  the  matter. 
Paul  had  such  hearers,  whom  he  addresses,  saying, 
"Ye  did  run  well,  what  did  hinder  you?"  John 
Baptist  had  many  such,  and  in  Herod  a  distinguished 
one — the  only  king,  so  far  as  I  know,  who  felt  such 
interest  in  religion  as  to  break  through  established 
routine  and  leave  his  court  chaplain  to  listen  to  a  street 
preacher.  His  conduct  in  this  matter,  the  pleasure  he 
felt  in  the  ministry  of  the  fearless  and  faithful  Baptist, 
the  many  things  he  did  at  John's  bidding  and  advice, 
were  full  of  promise — never  soil  was  covered  with  a 
greener  braird — never  sky  was  lighted  with  a  brighter 
dawn.  He  dured  for  a  while ;  then  fell  away — and 
what  a  fall ! — quenching  the  hopes,  which  God's  people 
had  begun  to  cherish  of  a  pious  king,  in  the  blood  of 
the  martyred,  murdered  preacher.  Not  Paul,  or  the 
Baptist  only,  but  our  Lord  himself  had  many  such 
hearers.  Crowds  followed  him ;  tracked  his  steps 
from  city  to  city,  from  shore  to  shore — hanging  on  his 
lips,  thronging  the  streets  through  which  he  passed, 
and  besieging  the  houses  where  he  lodged.  The  day 
was  once  when  ten  thousand  tongues  would  have 


THE    PARABLE    OF   THE    SOWER.  227 

spoken  and  ten  thousand  swords  would  have  flashed  in 
his  defence ;  and  the  day  arrived  when,  during  for  a 
while,  they  fell  away,  and  of  the  crowds  that  swelled 
his  jubilant  train,  all,  all  deserted  him — the  only  voice 
ifted  up  in  his  behalf  coming  from  the  cross  of  a 
dying  thief. 

The  explanation  of  these,  and  of  all  cases  where 
religion  disappears  and  dies  out  under  the  influence 
either  of  temptation  or  of  persecution, lies  here — they 
had  no  root,  no  true  faith.  Convictions  were  mistaken 
for  conversion ;  admiration  of  the  servant  for  attach- 
ment to  his  master;  an  appreciation  of  the  moral 
beauties  of  the  gospel  for  an  appreciation  of  its  holi- 
ness; the  pleasures  of  emotion,  or  such  gratification 
as  taste  enjoys  in  a  beautiful  discourse,  for  the  pleas- 
ures of  piety.  Beneath  such  promising  appearances 
there  lies  a  stony  heart ;  and  so  when  the  tests  of 
suffering  or  of  temptation  are  applied,  they  fall  away, 
like  the  multitude  who,  offended  at  Jesus'  saying, 
walked  no  more  with  him. 

Where  however  there  is  true  faith,  his  people,  thank 
God,  need  not  much  dread  such  trials.  Resting  firmly 
on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  they  are  as  Mount  Zion  which 
cannot  be  moved.  To  borrow  the  figure  here,  the 
hotter  the  sun,  if  the  heavens  send  it  showers,  and  the 
earth  give  it  soil,  the  plant  grows  the  taller  and  the 
stronger — grace  growing  in  converted  hearts  like  corn 
in  strong,  deep,  rich,  well  watered  soils.  The  warmer 
the  summer,  the  richer  the  harvest. 

Those  represented  by  the  Gf-rcund  with  Thorns. — Of 
the  seed  our  Lord  says  "  Some  fell  among  thorns,  and 


228  TUB    PAUABLES. 

the  thorns  sprang  up  and  choked  them ;"  explaining  it 
thus,  "  He  also  that  receiveth  seed  among  the  thorns 
is  he  that  heareth  the  word,  and  the  care  of  this  world, 
and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches,  and,"  as  Mark  adds, 
"  the  lusts  of  other  things  entering  in,  choke  the  word, 
and  it  becometh  unfruitful." 

The  regions  which  lie  mid-way  between  the  equator 
and  the  poles  are  proved  by  experience  to  be  most  fa- 
vorable to  life  and  its  enjoyments  ;  and  so  those  con- 
ditions which  lie  mid-way  between  the  opposite  ex- 
tremes of  poverty  and  riches,  are  found  most  condu- 
cive to  man's  spiritual  welfare.  The  proof  of  that 
which  this  parable,  as  well  as  many  other  passages  of 
Scripture,  presents,  should  warn  both  rich  and  poor  of 
their  peculiar  dangers ;  and  teach  contentment  to  such 
of  us  as  are  fortunate  enough  to  be  neither  harassed 
with  the  cares  of  poverty,  nor  tempted  by  the  deceit- 
fulness  of  riches.  The  danger  and  deceitful  influence 
of  riches,  their  tendency  to  turn  our  thoughts  away 
from  another  world,  and  drown  such  concern  for  the 
soul  as  providences  or  preachers  may  have  awakened, 
in  the  cup  of  pleasure,  is  awfully  expressed  in  the  say- 
ing of  our  Lord,  "  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go 
through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich  man  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  Dr.  Johnson  put 
the  point  well  when,  on  Garrick  showing  him  his  beauti- 
ful mansion  and  grounds,  the  great  moralist  and  good 
man  laid  his  hand  kindly  on  the  player's  shoulder,  and 
said,  "  Ah !  David,  David,  these  are  the  things  which 
make  a  death-bed  terrible  !" 

The   equally    dangerous    and   deadly    influence    of 


T11H    i'AUABLE    OF    THE    SOWER.  229 

great  poverty  I  may  illustrate  by  a  scene  which  I 
have  not  forgotten,  nor  can  forget.  Alone,  in  the 
garret  of  a  dilapidated  house,  within  a  wretched 
room,  stretched  on  a  pallet  of  straw,  covered  only  by 
some  scanty,  filthy  rags,  with  no  fire  in  the  empty 
chimney,  and  the  winter  wind  blowing  in  cold  and  fit- 
ful gusts  through  the  broken,  battered  window,  an  old 
woman  lay,  feeble,  wasted,  gray.  She  had  passed  the 
eleventh  hour ;  the  hand  was  creeping  on  to  the 
twelfth.  Had  she  been  called  ?  It  was  important  to 
turn  to  the  best  account  the  few  remaining  sands  of 
life ;  so  I  spoke  to  her  of  her  soul,  told  her  of  a 
Saviour — urging  her  to  prepare  for  that  other  world 
on  whose  awful  border  her  spirit  was  hovering.  She 
looked ;  she  stared  ;  and  raising  herself  on  her  elbow, 
with  chattering  teeth,  and  ravenous  look,  muttered  "I 
am  cold  and  hungry."  Promising  help,  I  at  the  same 
time  warned  her  that  there  was  something  worse  than 
cold  and  hunger.  Whereupon,  stretching  out  a  naked 
and  skinny  arm,  with  an  answer  which  if  it  did  not 
satisfy  the  reason  touched  the  feelings,  she  said,  "If 
you  were  as  cold  and  as  hungry  as  I  am  you  could 
think  of  nothing  else."  The  cares  of  the  world  were 
choking  the  word. 

And  so  may,  what  Mark  calls,  "  the  lusts  of  other 
things"  do — in  such  as  are  placed  in  the  happy  medium 
between  wealth  and  want,  strangling  good  thoughts  in 
their  very  birth :  destroying  the  fairest  promises  of 
conversion.  Let  me  illustrate  this  also  by  an  example. 
Robert  Burns,  who  had  times  of  serious  reflection,  in 
one  of  which,  as  recorded  by  his  own  pen,  he  beauti- 
20 


230  THE    PARABLES. 

fully  compares  himself,  in  the  review  of  his  past  life, 
to  a  lonely  man  walking  amid  the  ruins  of  a  noble 
temple,  where  pillars  stand  dismantled  of  their  capi- 
tals, and  elaborate  works  of  purest  marble  lie  on  the 
ground,  overgrown  by  tall,  foul,  rank  weeds — was  once 
brought,  as  I  have  heard,  under  deep  convictions.  He 
was  in  great  alarm.  The  seed  of  the  word  had  begun 
to  grow.  He  sought  counsel  from  one  called  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel.  Alas,  that  in  that  crisis  of  his  history 
he  should  have  trusted  the  helm  to  the  hands  of  such 
a  pilot !  This  so-called  minister  laughed  at  the  poet's 
fears — bade  him  dance  them  away  at  balls,  drown  them 
in  bowls  of  wine,  fly  from  these  phantoms  to  the  arms 
of  pleasure.  Fatal,  too  pleasant,  advice  !  He  followed 
it;  and  "  the  lusts  of  other  things"  entering  in,  choked 
the  word. 

Now,  be  it  woman's  household  cares  or  the  anxieties 
and  annoyances  of  man's  business,  the  harassments  of 
poverty  or  the  enticements  of  wealth,  the  pursuit  of 
fame  or  power,  or  pleasure,  whatever  in  short  it  be 
that  engrosses  our  attention,  and,  stealing  our  thoughts 
from  God,  and  our  hearts  from  heaven,  counteracts  the 
holy  influences  of  Bibles,  churches,  sermons,  Sabbaths, 
it  is  choking  the  word.  We  need  to  be  on  our  guard. 
It  is  not  the  green  and  tender  corn  only  which  is 
smothered.  I  have  seen  the  stately  tree,  with  roots 
struck  deep  in  the  soil,  and  giant  arms  that  had  battled 
with  the  tempest,  fall  a  prey  to  a  low  and  ignoble 
creeper ;  fastening  on  it,  rising  on  it,  twining  its  pliant 
branches,  around  the  massive  trunk,  binding  it  more 
and  more  closely  in  its  fatal  embraces,  the  weak 


TIIH    I'AUAULE    OF    THU    SOWEll.  231 

strangled  the  strong — to  death.  What  but  God's  great 
grace  and  mercy,  the  timely  interposition  of  Heaven, 
in  his  peril  and  extremity  saved  King  David  from  be- 
coming a  ruin,  a  wreck  as  great  as  Demas  the  apos- 
tate,  or  Judas  the  traitor  ?  The  devil's  hand  was  fas- 
tened on  his  throat,  when  Nathan  appeared  to  loose  it. 
Watch,  therefore,  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not  into 
temptation — Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth  take 
heed  lest  he  fall. 

Those  represented  by  the  (rood  Ground. — "  He," 
says  our  Lord,  "  that  received  seed  into  the  good 
ground  is  he  that  heareth  the  word  and  understandeth 
[Mark  says  "  receiveth]"  it:  which  also  beareth  fruit, 
and  bringeth  forth,  in  some  an  hundred  fold,  some 
sixty,  some  thirty;"  or  as  it  is  given  by  Luke,  "  The 
good  ground  are  they  which  in  an  honest  and  good 
hearf,  having  heard  the  word,  keep  it,  and  bring  forth 
fruit  with  patience."  In  these  words  we  are  presented 
with  certain  salient,  distinctive  points  of  character, — 
touchstones,  by  which  each  man  may,  and  should,  try 
himself.  In  doing  little  else  than  indicating  these,  I 
remark  of  true  Christians, 

First,  They  receive  the  Word.  In  their  case  it  does 
not,  so  to  speak,  go  in  at  the  one  ear,  and  come  out  at 
the  other.  It  does  not  fall  on  their  minds  to  run  off 
like  water  from  a  stone ;  it  falls,  but  it  is  as  seed  into 
a  furrow,  to  lodge  itself  in  their  hearts.  They  do  not 
reject,  but  receive  it. 

Secondly,  They  understand  it, — appreciate  its  value; 
feel  its  power ;  and  "  comprehend  with  all  saints  what 
is  the  breadth,  and  length,  and  depth,  and  height  of 


232  T.IE    I'AKAJil.KS. 

the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge."  But 
"  the  darkness,"  as  the  apostle  John  says,  "  compre- 
hendeth  it  not."  Did  others  comprehend,  understand 
the  truth  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  would  they 
act  as  they  do  ?  No !  no  more  than  a  man,  even  a 
child,  who  understood  the  nature  of  fire,  would  walk 
into  the  burning  flames.  Did  yonder  savage  know,  or 
even  dream  of,  its  value,  would  he  give  a  handful  of 
gold  to  purchafc,  i  a  few  worthless  beads,  a  looking-glass, 
some  fragile,  infant's  toy?  Still  less  would  yonder 
sinner,  did  he  rightly  understand  the  meaning  of  God's 
wrath,  of  God's  .ove,  of  the  cross  of  Calvary,  of  eter- 
nity, pawn  his  soal  and  peril  its  salvation  for  pleasures 
which  perish  in  the  using. 

Thirdly,  They  'ceep  the  Word:  as — in  contradistinc- 
tion to  soils  thai  puffed  up  by  winter  frosts  throw  out, 
or  others  that  starve,  their  plants — good  ground  keeps 
the  corn.  Esteemed  a  treasure  more  precious  than  gold, 
yea  than  much  fine  gold,  they  lay  the  word  in  their 
hearts,  locking  it  up  there. — Its  effect  on  others  is 
temporary,  as  truths  written  on  sands  within  the  tide- 
mark  where  waves  roll  in,  nor  leave  a  letter  there.  On 
them  its  effects  are  permanent,  not  passing ;  deep,  not 
shallow  ;  the  work  of  God's  Spirit,  not  of  man's  powers 
of  persuasion  ;  such  as  Job  wished  :  "  0  that  my  words 
were  written  !  0  that  they  were  printed  in  a  book  !  that 
they  were  graven  with  an  iron  pen  in  the  rock  for  ever  !" 
With  hearts  where  the  tenderness  of  flesh  is  associated 
with  the  tenaciousness  of  stone,  as  granite  keeps  the 
letters  of  its  inscription,  so  they  "  keep  the  Word." 

Fourthly,   They  bring  forth  Fruit. — In  the  form  of 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.          233 

good  works,  of  unselfish,  gentle,  and  heavenly  dis- 
positions, of  useful,  noble,  holy,  and  Christian  lives, 
they  bring  forth  fruit — some  much ;  some  little  ;  but 
all  some.  "  Neither  barren  nor  unfruitful  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  they  prove  their  faith 
by  their  works.  So  living,  within  a  wide  or  narrow 
circle,  when  they  die  they  are  missed :  and  their  me- 
mory, while  "the  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot,"  em- 
balmed in  their  virtues  and  long  preserved  from  decay, 
remains  fragrant — as  withered  rose-leaves  in  a  vase  of 
spices. 

Such  are  some  of  the  points  which  distinguish  real 
Christians  from  those  who,  however  fair,  are  mere  pro- 
fessors. The  key  to  all  lies  here — they  have,  what  is 
meant  by  the  "good  ground,"  a  good  heart, — what 
Luke  calls  "  an  honest  and  good  heart," — in  other 
words  a  true  and  a  new  heart.  Implanted  at  conver- 
sion, entailed  on  no  heir,  the  natural  inheritance  of  no 
man,  this  heart  is  found  in  those  only  who,  born  again 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  have  received  the  truth  in  the 
love  of  it.  Its  presence  or  absence  explains  what  is 
otherwise  inexplicable — in  the  same  family,  some  re- 
probate and  others  religious ;  among  disciples  of  the 
same  Master,  a  Judas  and  a  John ;  hanging  one  on 
each  side  of  the  same  cross,  an  impenitent  and  a  pe- 
nitent thief;  leaving  the  same  church  after  listening 
to  the  same  sermon,  one  sinner  converted  and  another 
hardened.  How  important, — the  term  is  too  feeble, 
— how  indispensable,  absolutely  indispensable,  would 
men  be  saved,  nor  go  to  hell  with  a  Bible  hung  like  a 
millstone  round  their  neck,  this  new  heart !  God  can 
20* 


234  THE    PAKABLES. 

give  it.  He  has  given  it  wherever  it  has  been  got. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  grains  of  corn  to  change  bad 
ground  into  good ;  but  this  seed  has  the  wondrous 
power  of  changing  the  nature  of  the  soil.  Blessed  of* 
God,  the  truth  sanctifies.  What  therefore  though  the 
heart  by  nature  is  like  a  stone  ?  The  finest  soils  of 
earth  were  once  stone ;  and  He  who  by  the  action  of 
stormy  waves  and  stupendous  icebergs  ground  down 
the  rocks  which  reared  their  naked,  rugged  heads 
above  the  waste  of  waters  into  soil  where  now  the 
ploughman  draws  his  furrows  and  flashing  sickles  reap 
their  richest  harvest,  can  work  such  changes  on  hearts 
of  stone.  And  he  will,  if  we  ask  him.  "  If  a  son," 
says  'our  Lord,  "  shall  ask  bread  of  any  of  you  that  is 
a  father,  will  he  give  him  a  stone  ?  or  if  he  ask  a  fish, 
will  he  for  a  fish  give  him  a  serpent  ?  or  if  he  shall 
ask  an  egg,  will  he  offer  him  a  scorpion  ?  If  ye  then, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your 
children,  how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father 
give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him  ?" 


XI. 

f  Jt  $)ar»&l*  0f  %  InnimiM  Swtoant. 

Matthew  xviii.  21 — 25. 

THE  boy  who,  catching  a  poor  fluttering  insect,  im- 
pales it,  and  then  with  curious  and  eager  eyes  watches 
it  spin  round  and  round,  may  not  be  of  a  cruel  dispo- 
sition. It  is  right  by  instruction,  or  by  the  rod  even, 
to  teach  children  kindness  to  the  meanest  thing  that 
lives,  still  this  barbarous  and  apparently  cruel  act 
may  be  entirely  due  to  ignorance.  The  child  does  not 
know  the  pain  it  inflicts ;  and  may  just  illustrate  in  the 
nursery  what  is  so  often  illustrated  by  older  people  in 
the  world,  how,  in  miseries  unrelieved,  feelings  wounded, 
and  the  poor  neglected,  more  ill  is  done  for  want  of 
thought  than  for  want  of  heart.  The  nursery  however 
presents  a  scene  where,  as  through  a  rent  in  that  veil 
of  innocence  which  throws  its  sweetest  charms  over 
infancy,  we  see  the  bad  passions  of  our  nature.  Proud 
and  pleased  as  it  takes  its  first  steps  across  the  floor 
to  the  mother,  kneeling  with  radiant  smiles  and  open 
arms  to  receive  it,  the  infant  totters,  and  falls  with  a 
lurch  against  chair  or  table.  In  such  a  case  it  is  easier 
to  stanch  its  wound  than  calm  its  anger.  And  yet, 

(235) 


236  THE    PARABLES. 

though  the  remedy  is  worse  than  the  disease,  that  may 
he  done.  Revenge,  says  one,  is  sweet.  There  is  nothing 
smells  so  sweet,  said  Louis  XII.,  as  the  dead  body  of 
an  enemy ;  and  blowing  up  a  spark  she  should  have 
quenched,  the  foolish  nurse  or  mother  pretends,  by  beat- 
ing chair  or  table,  to  avenge  the  wrong.  The  device 
succeeds — though  it  be,  after  a  fashion,  casting  out 
devils  by  Beelzebub  the  prince  of  devils,  and  by  an- 
other voice  than  his  who  spake  peace  to  the  storm  of 
Galilee,  calming  the  passions  of  that  little  bosom. 
Alas,  her  success  in  soothing  anger  by  gratifying  the 
passion  for  revenge,  proves  not  so  much  the  nurse's 
skill,  as  that  forgiveness  is  not  a  virtue  that  belongs  to 
our  fallen  nature. 

To  say  that  we  forgive,  is  easy.  But  when  engaged 
as  a  peacemaker,  how  have  I  seen  the  manner  give  the 
lie  to  the  speech,  and  in  the  clouded  brow,  and  sullen 
look,  and  reluctant  advance,  and  cold  hand  of  this 
scene,  the  strongest  contrast  to  that  where  his  father, 
seeing  the  prodigal  afar  off,  runs  to  meet  him,  and 
rushes  into  his  arms  to  kiss  him  ?  It  is  the  forgiveness 
of  the  heart  which  God  links  to  the  forgiveness  of  the 
heavens — that  which  recalls  Calvary,  with  Jesus  bend- 
ing eyes  of  pity  on  his  murderers, — not  the  death-bed 
of  an  old  highland  chief  in  the  days  when  clans  met 
clans  in  deadly  feud.  It  is  told  that  the  minister 
urged  him  to  make  his  peace  with  men  as  well  as  with 
God,  declaring  that  he  could  not  expect  to  be  forgiven 
unless  he  forgave.  The  word  at  length  passed  his  re- 
luctant lips ;  but,  as  if  that  dying  chamber  had  been 
a  stage,  and  the  dying  man  an  actor,  who,  having 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVAJfT.  237 

played  his  part,  doffs  his  theatrical  attire  to  resume  his 
real  character,  so  soon  as  it  was  spo-ken,  he  turned  on 
his  son  to  say,  that  he  left  him  a  father's  curse  if  he 
forgave  them ! 

Foreign  to  nature,  forgiveness  is  difficult  even  to 
grace, — so  difficult,  that  he  who  suffers  a  wrong  and 
feels- no  impulse  to  retaliate,  recalls  one  without  aught 
of  malice,  endures  cruel  wounds  which  heal  without 
festering  into  corrupt,  acrid  humors,  has,  if  such  grace 
there  be  on  earth,  reached  its  highest  pinnacle ;  and 
presents  the  finest  image  of  Him,  who,  when  reviled, 
reviled  not  again,  and  when  his  mangled  form  lay 
stretched  on  the  cross,  raised  his  meek  eyes  to  pray, 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do  !"  This  grace,  be  it  observed,  is  not  incompatible 
with  a  deep  sense  of  our  wrongs.  The  apathy  which 
feels  a  blow  no  more  than  a  stone  does,  an  insult  no 
more  than  the  cold  corpse  which,  spit  upon,  lifts  no 
hand  to  wipe  off  the  stain,  a  wound  no  more  than  the 
air  which  the  arrow  cleaves,  or  the  water  which  kisses 
the  prow  and  closes  its  arms  around  the  keel  that  tears 
its  bosom,  does  not  constitute  a  forgiving  temper.  They 
forgive  most  who  feel  the  deepest  indignation  at  in- 
gratitude, and  on  whom  injuries  inflict  the  keenest 
pain.  On  them  as,  in  forgiving  wrong,  and  returning 
good  for  evil,  achieving  the  greatest  victory  over  self, 
the  wise  man  pronounces  his  high  eulogium,  "  He  that 
ruleth  his  spirit  is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

So  foreign  is  this  grace  to  humanity,  that  we  are 
unable  not  only  to  practise  but  even  fully  to  under- 
stand it — as  is  shown  by  the  question  which  formed 


238  THE   PARABLES. 

the  occasion  of  this  parable.  Although  the  law  of 
vengeance,  as  expressed  by  the  proverb,  "  an  eye  for 
an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,"  was  the  rule  in 
Heathendom,  God's  ancient  people  had  some  notion  of 
the  duty  of  forgiveness.  The  dyer's  hands  are  stained 
by  the  colors  of  his  trade,  and  the  very  clothes  of  one 
who  works  among  spices  steal  some  of  their  fragrant  per- 
fume :  so  their  familiarity  with  those  Scriptures  where 
God's  forgiveness  is  so  eagerly  sought  and  highly  ex- 
tolled, inspired  the  Jews,  to  some  extent,  with  a  for- 
giving spirit.  They  held  forgiveness  to  be  a  duty, 
binding  up  to  the  third  offence ;  but  beyond  that  limit, 
let  the  wrongdoer  beware ;  outside  that  charmed  circle, 
man  had  a  right  to  say,  with  God,  Vengeance  is  mine, 
I  will  repay.  Now,  Simon  Peter  had  not  lived  these 
months  or  years  with  Jesus  without  catching  something 
of  his  Master's  gentle,  placable,  forgiving  spirit.  The 
leaven  had  begun  to  work ;  and  his  heart,  swelling 
with  something  of  Jesus's  love,  found  the  narrow  limits 
of  Jewish  forgiveness  too  contracted  for  it.  Though 
imperfect  as  the  vision  of  him  who,  with  sight  but  par- 
tially restored,  saw  men  as  trees  walking,  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  truth :  and  came  to  Jesus, 
saying,  "Lord,  how  oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against 
me,  and  I  forgive  him  ?  Seven  times  ?"  Hail  to  the 
dawn  !  The  night  is  past,  and  the  sky  shows  the  first 
bright  streaks  of  morning.  "Seven  times?"  Simon 
has  stept  out  in  advance  of  the  men  of  his  age  and 
nation ;  and  our  Lord  seizes  the  opportunity  to  lead 
him  onward  and  upward  to  higher  ground — to  make 
him  better  acquainted  with  Christian  mercy,  fairest  of 


THE    UNMERCIFUL    SERVANT.  239 

all  the  graces.  "Not,"  is  his  reply,  "seven  times, 
but  seventy  times  seven" — seventy  multiplied  by 
seven.  A  big  number :  and  yet  we  would  fall  far 
short  of  the  lofty  mark  if  we  suppose,  that  forgiveness  ' 
is  to  be  confined  to  the  limit  of  four  hundred  and 
ninety  insults,  wrongs,  or  robberies.  Here,  as  else- 
where, a  definite  is  employed  to  express  an  indefinite 
number :  so  that  by  this  expression  Jesus  taught  Peter, 
and  teaches  us,  that  mercy,  like  the  regions  of  space, 
has  no  limit ;  and  that  as  these  stretch  away  before 
the  traveler  who  looks  out  from  the  farthest  star,  so 
the  loftiest  intellect  and  largest  heart  can  descry  no 
bounds  to  mercy.  Like  our  Father  in  heaven,  we  are 
to  forgive  without  stint — forgiving  as  we  expect  to  be 
forgiven.  And  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  and  of 
enforcing  this  truth,  our  Lord  tells  the  parable  of  the 
Unmerciful  Servant. 

THE  MASTER'S  TREATMENT  OF  HIS  SERVANT. 
He  was  reckoned  with. — As  the  story  runs,  the 
King  enters  on  an  inquiry  into  the  way  his  servants 
have  discharged  their  trust — an  incident,  since  the 
King  here  represents  God,  which  reminds  us  that  He 
with  whom  we  have  to  do,  will  ere  long  reckon  with 
every  man — saying,  "  Give  an  account  of  thy  steward- 
ship :  thou  shalt  be  no  longer  steward."  God  will 
reckon  with  us :  first,  when  Death,  grim  officer  of 
justice,  comes  to  seize  man  by  the  throat,  and,  as  he 
drags  him  away  into  the  presence  of  the  Judge,  seems 
to  say,  Pay  that  thou  owest ; — and,  secondly,  when  the 
Archangel,  sounding  his  loud  trumpet  at  the  gates  of 


240  THE    FAUABLKS. 

Death,  shall  call  us  from  our  graves  to  see  the  throne 
set,  the  books  opened,  the  world  wrapped  in  flames, 
and  God  descending  in  majesty  to  judgment.  But  it 
is  neither  the  hour  of  death  nor  the  day  of  judgment 
which  is  meant  here.  Alas !  for  us,  if  we  are  not 
reckoned  with  till  then.  It  is  too  late  then — too  late 
to  ask  for  patience ;  too  late  to  hope  for  pardon  ;  too 
late  for  repentance  and  return.  The  door  is  shut. 

"  In  the  cold  grave  to  which  we  haste 
There  are  no  acts  of  pardon  past, 
But  fixed  the  doom  of  all  remains, 
And  everlasting  silence  reigns." 

It  is  to  the  reckoning  which  God  holds  with  men  in 
time,  through  His  Word,  and  hy  the  agencies  of  His 
Spirit  and  their  consciences,  that  this  parable  refers. 
The  King  reckons  with  us,  "  his  servants,"  when  he 
brings  us  to  a  sense  of  our  guilt ;  sets  our  sins  in  dread 
array  before  us;  impresses  us  with  feelings  of  contri- 
tion, and  alarms  us  with  fears  of  judgment ;  and  by 
rebukes,  corrections,  and  convictions,  pleads  with  us 
to  flee  to  Jesus.  The  bar  here  is  one  at  which,  some 
time  or  other,  we  all  have  stood ;  and  where,  without 
regard  to  rank  or  office,  kings  and  priests,  and  purest 
women,  as  well  as  the  lowest  criminals,  have  been 
tried.  This  court  holds  its  sittings  within  our  bosoms 
— the  presiding  judge,  God's  vicegerent,  is  conscience 
— the  law  is  the  statutes  of  Heaven — and  each  man, 
turning  king's  evidence,  bears  witness  against  himself. 
And  though  in  a  sense  man  himself  here  constitutes 
the  whole  court, — being  at  once  prosecutor,  witness. 


THE    UXME11CIFUL    SEUVANT.  241 

judge,  and  jury,  and  the  trial  is  conducted  under  cir- 
cumstances not  favorable  to  an  impartial  decision, — 
yet  in  every  case  the  verdict  is,  and  must  be,  guilty. 
We  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact,  that  we  have  all 
sinned  times  and  ways  without  number.  Whose  con- 
science does  not  condemn  him  as  a  debtor  to  the  law 
of  God  ?  Who  boasts,  my  hands  are  clean,  my  heart 
is  pure  ?  The  one  redeeming  feature  in  that  Sanhe- 
drim of  sanctimonious  hypocrites  where  Jesus  stands 
facing  the  guilty  woman,  is  that,  when  he  says  "Let 
him  who  is  without  sin  cast  the  first  stone  at  her,"  a 
sense  of  guilt  paralyses  every  arm — they  retreat,  and 
she  goes  scatheless.  To  say  that  we  have  not  sinned, 
is,  in  fact,  to  sin  in  saying  it;  for  we  make  God  a  liar, 
and  our  mouth  proves  us  perverse.  We  have  all  sinned, 
and  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God. 

He  owed  an  immense  debt. — This  is  expressed  by  the 
very  number  here — ten  thousand,  or  a  myriad,  being 
the  highest  in  the  Greek  notation.  Nor  does  the  debt 
look  less  when  narrowly  examined — being  such  indeed 
as  could  have  only  been  contracted  by  one  who,  re- 
presenting his  sovereign  in  some  wealthy  province  of 
an  Eastern  empire,  had  squandered  in  boundless  extra- 
vagance revenues  that  should  have  swelled  the  public 
treasury.  In  Roman  talents  this  debt  amounts  to  five 
millions  of  our  money ;  and  if  we  reckon  by  th 
Jewish  talent,  and  calculate  the  amount  in  gold,  and 
not  in  silver,  it  rises  to  a  sum  equal  almost  to  tha 
whole  revenue  of  the  British  empire — the  servant 
stands  indebted  to  his  master  more  than  seventy  mil- 
lions sterling. 
21 


242  THE    PARABLES. 

A  most  enormous  sum !  but  on  that  account  the 
better  fitted  to  set  before  a  money  seeking,  making, 
loving  world,  in  a  way  suited  to  its  understanding,  our 
enormous  guilt  in  the  sight  of  God.  Such  is  the  sum 
of  our  transgressions ;  and  representing  our  debt  to 
the  divine  law,  these  figures  leave  us  no  hope  of  being 
able  to  pay  it — laying  on  each  man  a  load  of  guilt 
enough  to  sink  not  one,  but  ten  thousand  souls  into 
perdition.  That  we  are  guilty,  and  as  debtors  to  a 
broken  law,  are  sinners  to  the  extent  represented  here, 
is  a  conclusion  so  humbling  to  our  pride  and  alarming 
to  our  fears,  that  we  may  be  unwilling  to  admit  it. 
Yet  better  people  than  we,  God's  noblest  saints,  have 
spoken  of  the  number  and  guilt  of  their  sins  in  terms 
as  strong.  The  man  of  whom,  not  partial  friends, 
but  God  himself  said,  "  there  is  none  like  him  on  the 
earth,  a  perfect  and  an  upright  man,"  on  seeing  his 
own  image  in  the  mirror  which  God  held  before  his 
face,  started  back  with  horror ;  and  seeming  viler  in 
his  own  eyes  than  he  appeared  to  his  friends  when  they 
found  him  covered  with  ashes,  and  his  body  one  loath- 
some sore,  Job  exclaimed,  "  I  abhor  myself,  and  re- 
pent in  dust  and  ashes."  To  the  same  effect  is  Ezra's 
confession  when,  rending  his  mantle,  that  man  of  the 
highest  piety  and  patriotism  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  to  cry,  "  0  my  God,  I  am  ashamed,  and  blush 
to  lift  up  my  face  to  thee.  my  God,  for  our  iniquities 
are  increased  over  our  head,  and  our  trespass  is  gone 
up  unto  the  heavens;"  and  David's  harp  sounds  forth 
the  same  mournful  notes,  when  touching  its  strings 
with  trembling  hand,  "  the  man  after  God's  own 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  243 

heart,  lifts  his  weeping  eyes  to  Heaven,  saying,  "  0 
Lord,  for  thine  own  name's  sake,  pardon  mine  iniquity, 
for  it  is  great !" 

He  was  bound  to  pay. — Therefore,  seeing  "  he  had 
not  to  pay,  his  lord  commanded  him  to  be  sold  and  his 
wife  and  children,  and  all  that  he  had,  and  payment  to 
be  made."  This  first,  as  selling  a  man  for  debt,  and 
secondly,  as  involving  an  innocent  family  in  ruin,  looks 
a  hard  sentence.  It  is  not  necessarily  approved  of 
here,  and  I  am  riot  called  to  justify  it ;  yet,  I  may  re- 
mark by  way  of  explanation,  that  in  some  countries 
creditors  were  allowed  to  recover  their  claims  by  the 
sale  of  their  debtors.  Nor  need  we  hold  up  our  hands 
in  horror  at  this,  seeing,  not  only  that  it  appears  right 
to  compel  a  man  who  has  obtained  another's  property 
by  fraud  or  wasted  it  by  extravagance,  to  work  till  he 
has  liquidated  the  debt,  but  that  once  on  a  time,  and 
not  so  long  ago,  in  this  our  own  country,  debtors  were 
occasionally  doomed  to  a  fate  more  severe.  The  law 
allowed  their  creditors  to  throw  them  into  jail — not 
fraudulent  debtors  only,  but  those  also  who  under  the 
loss  of  their  fortunes  had  preserved  their  integrity — 
and  there,  amid  the  scum  and  offscourings  of  society, 
through  malice  of  enemies  or  lack  of  friends,  whilst 
wife  and  children  were  left  to  starve,  the  unhappy 
debtor  was  left  to  rot.  No  jail-delivery  for  him,  till 
a  messenger  from  a  higher  court — Death — came  to  set 
the  captive  free. 

Before  considering  the  bearing  of  this  part  of  the 
parable,  it  may  be  well  to  advert  to  the  fact,  that  this 
law  appears,  though  under  certain  important  modifica- 


244  THE    rAKABLES. 

tions,  in  the  Mosaic  code ;  and  that,  with  such  perver- 
sion of  Holy  Scripture  as  the  Devil  employed  in  the 
Temptation  of  the  Wilderness,  men — and,  sad  to  say, 
even  ministers  of  the  Gospel — have  used  it  to  defend 
slavery,  and  gloss  over  its  abominable  crimes.  Nature 
occasionally  produces  strange  monsters — creatures  that 
only  excite  emotions  of  terror  or  disgust,  and  which,  by 
a  merciful  law  of  Providence,  rarely  prolong  their  life, 
and  never  propagate  their  species.  But  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  free  men,  and  especially  of  Christian  ministers, 
standing  forth  before  an  astonished  world  to  justify 
slavsry  as  a  divine  institution — in  a  people  called 
Christian,  holding  that  God  made  one  race  of  human 
beings  to  be,  like  dogs  and  horses,  the  servants  of  an- 
other, and,  while  proposing  to  erect  an  empire  on  the 
foundations  of  slavery,  with  unblushing  effrontery  and 
unparalleled  blasphemy  applying  to  a  system  which 
the  Christian  world  rejects,  the  sacred  words  spoken 
of  our  dying  Lord,  "  the  stone  which  the  builders  re- 
fused is  become  the  headstone  of  the  corner" — in  this 
what  age  has  produced  anything  so  monstrous  as  our 
own  ?  Nothing  so  cruel  to  man  or  insulting  to  his 
Maker  is  found  in  all  history ;  and,  done  by  men  with 
Bibles  in  their  hands,  but  without  a  blush  on  their 
cheeks,  this  offers  a  most  remarkable  and  terrible  illus- 
tration of  the  Saviour's  words,  If  the  Irght  that  is  in 
you  be  darkness,  how  great  is  that  darkness?  The 
whole  tone  of  God's  blessed  word,  its  spirit  of  grace  and 
love,  its  golden  rule,  "  As  ye  would  that  others  should 
do  unto  you,  do  ye  also  to  them  likewise,"  are  as  irre- 
concilable with  slavery  as  with  robbery,  or  adultery, 


THE   UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  245 

or  murder,  or  any  one  of  all  the  crimes  of  which  this 
system  has  ever  proved  the  cruel  patron  and  the 
prolific  parent.  None — not  Satan  himself — has  more 
wickedly  perverted  the  word  of  God  than  those  who 
attempt  to  make  Jewish  servitude  an  excuse  and  a 
defence  for  modern  slavery.  So  far,  for  example,  as 
the  case  in  hand  is  concerned,  the  debtor  who  was  sold 
to  meet  the  demands  of  his  creditor  had  a  right,  by  the 
laws  of  Moses,  to  kind  and  brotherly  treatment  during 
the  whole  period  of  servitude ;  and  whether  the  debt 
was  paid  out  or  not,  freedom  came  with  the  seventh 
year.  In  the  larger  number  of  cases  the  bondage  was 
thus  no  longer  than  an  apprenticeship ;  and  in  those 
few  cases  where  it  lasted  till  the  return  of  the  year  of 
jubilee,  at  the  first  blast  of  the  trumpet  the  bondsman 
went  free — "Then,"  said  God,  "shall  he  depart  from 
thee,  he  and  his  children  with  him,  and  shall  return 
unto  the  family  and  possession  of  his  fathers."  To 
pretend  that  such  laws  lend  any  countenance  to  Ame- 
rican slavery,  is  to  insult  man's  understanding  and 
profane  God's  word. 

Proceeding  now  to  apply  the  parable,  let  it  be  ob- 
served that  the  servant  takes  no  objection  to  the  sen- 
tence. He  does  not  challenge  its  justice :  he  only  pro- 
poses to  suspend  its  execution.  Drowning  men  catch 
at  straws.  So  did  he,  when,  distracted  with  sudden 
terror,  he  cast  himself  at  his  master's  feet  to  say — as 
if  ten  thousand  talents,  the  revenue  of  a  kingdom, 
had  been  but  ten  thousand  pence — Lord,  have  patience 
with  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all !  Did  he  know  what 
he  was  saying  ?  One  can  hardly  believe  it.  And  yet 
21* 


246  THE    PARABLES. 

in  undertaking  such  an  impossible  task,  he  was  the 
veritable  type  of  many  a  sinner.  Promising  to  God 
never  more  to  commit  the  sin  of  which  their  conscience 
accuses  them,  henceforth  to  keep  their  hands  clean 
and  their  hearts  pure,  they,  as  it  were,  undertake, 
without  having  one  penny,  to  pay  ten  thousand  talents. 
So  they  also  do  who  propose  to  reconcile  themselves 
to  God,  and  wipe  out  the  guilt  of  their  past  sins,  by 
living  henceforth  lives  of  blameless  obedience.  Have 
patience  with  me,  they  say,  and  then  I  will  pay  thee 
all.  Now,  suppose  that  they  who  have  always  fallen 
will  fall  no  more,  and  that  henceforth  they  will  succeed 
in  conquering  the  temptations  which  have  always  con- 
quered them,  what  then  ?  Keeping  out  of  debt  does 
not  liquidate  obligations  already  contracted.  What 
merchant  to  whom  I  stand  indebted  would  grant  me  a 
discharge  on  my  undertaking  hereafter  to  buy  with 
ready  m'oney  ?  To  vary  the  illustration,  fancy  a  man 
found  guilty  of  murder,  on  being  asked  to  say  why 
sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed  on  him,  stand- 
ing up,  and,  as  a  good  reason  why  he  should  not  be 
hanged,  gravely  promising  to  commit  no  more  murders, 
never  more  to  shed  human  blood.  Some  might  laugh ; 
none  would  listen  to  so  absurd  a  plea.  Such,  however, 
is  the  way  in  which  some  sinners  propose  to  pay 
old  debts ;  it  never  satisfied  man,  and  cannot  satisfy 
God. 

Still,  incalculably  great  though  the  debt  be,  there  is 
a  way  of  paying  all.  It  is  not  by  works  of  righteous- 
ness that  we  have  done.  He  who  consents  to  be  a 
debtor  to  the  grace,  will  cease  to  be  a  debtor  to  the 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  247 

iaw  of  God.  Going  to  prison  for  us,  to  bondage  for 
us,  to  death  for  us,  Jesus,  by  rendering  in  his  life  a 
perfect  obedience  to  the  law,  and  in  his  sufferings  a 
perfect  satisfaction  to  the  justice  of  his  Father,  has 
paid  all.  The  benefits  of  his  suretyship  are  ours  if  we 
believe.  Trembling  at  the  bar,  overwhelmed  by  proofs 
of  guilt,  condemned,  crushed, — guilty  one,  lift  your 
bead,  look  up,  behold 

"Where  high  the  heavenly  temple  stands, 
The  house  of  God  not  made  with  hands. 
A  great  High  Priest  our  nature  wears  ; 
The  Guardian  of  mankind  appears ; 
He  who  for  rain  thtir  surety  stood, 
And  poured  on  earth  his  precious  blood, 
Pursues  in  heaven  his  mighty  plan, 
The  Saviour  and  the  Friend  of  man." 

He  was  forgiven. — In  those  old  historic  straits  which 
join  the  Mediterranean  to  the  broad  Atlantic,  there  is 
an  upper  current  from  the  ocean  flowing  into  the  sea, 
and  an  under  and  salter  current  from  the  sea  which 
flows  out  to  the  ocean ;  and  in  like  manner  the  human 
bosom  may,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  be  moved  by 
the  counter-currents  of  opposing  passions — mercy  and 
vengeance;  anger  and  pity ;  what  prompts  to  punish, 
and  what  to  pardon.  And  as  in  yonder  straits  all 
merely  floating  things,  from  ships  of  war  to  seaweeds, 
are  borne  onward  of  the  upper  stream,  so  the  fate  of 
one  whose  crimes  excite  our  anger,  but  whose  misery 
moves  our  pity,  depends  on  which  of  these  two 
passions  gets  the  upper  hand — obtains  the  mastery 
over  us. 


248  THE    PAItAHLES. 

Such  a  case  was  his  whose  story  forms  the  ground- 
work of  this  parable  His  unfaithfulness,  and  the 
enormous  loss  it  entailed  on  a  kind  and  confiding 
master,  called  for  punishment,  and  left  him  no  claim 
to  forgiveness.  On  the  other  hand,  there  he  was,  a 
miserable  wretch — by  one  sudden  turn  of  Fortune's 
wheel  thrown  from  its  top  into  the  dust,  where,  as 
with  every  bone  broken,  he  lies  writhing,  crushed  by 
the  tremendous  fall ;  none  so  poor  now  to  do  him  re- 
verence ;  by  one  step  he  has  descended  from  a  proud 
position  to  stand,  with  a  wife  and  children  whom  his 
crimes  have  hurried  into  ruin,  in  the  auction  mart — 
nothing  before  him  and  them  but  the  miseries  of  life- 
long slavery.  His  heart  is  wrung  with  grief;  he  stands 
appalled  at  the  prospect ;  from  his  fate,  pale  with 
terror,  and  a  picture  of  despair,  he  shrinks  back  to 
throw  himself  at  his  master's  feet,  and  implore  his 
pity.  "  Have  patience  with  me,"  he  cries,  "  and  I 
will  pay  thee  all."  Looking  down  on  this  form  of  ab- 
ject misery,  his  master  is  moved  with  compassion — 
"  Mercy  rejoiceth  against  judgment."  He  who  asked 
but  patience  receives  pardon.  He  who  sought  but 
time  to  toil  and  save  to  pay  his  debts,  has  them  all 
forgiven.  Seeking  more  than  he  deserved,  he  obtains 
more  than  he  desired.  His  least  fears  are  disap- 
pointed, and  his  greatest  hopes  surpassed.  Without 
doing  a  turn  to  pay  a  penny  of  the  sum,  the  debt 
of  ten  thousand  talents  is  at  once  and  entirely  can- 
celled. 

Behold  a  picture  of  the  munificent  mercy  which  God 
is  ready  to  extend  to  us — even  to  the  chief  of  sinners  ! 


THE    OtfMEKCIFUL    SERVANT.  249 

Intoxicated  with  "  the  cup  of  devils,"  many  are  in- 
sensible to  their  misery ;  having  even  "  no  bonds  in 
their  death,"  they  are  like  that  degraded  wretch,  who 
stupefied  with  drink,  lies  prostrate  in  the  gutter,  and, 
while  his  family  blush  with  shame  and  strangers  look 
on  with  pity,  feels  neither  cold,  nor  hunger,  nor  dis- 
grace. But  what  costs  many  a  gay  and  thoughtless 
one  no  care,  moved  God  to  compassion,  and  brought 
his  Son  to  the  rescue.  To  save  us  from  sin,  and  from 
that  hell  where  they  seek  for  death  but  cannot  find  it, 
and  only  find  after  unnumbered  ages  that  their  tor- 
ments are  beginning,  Jesus  interposed,  saying,  I  will 
save  them — suspend  the  sentence — I  come  to  do  thy 
will,  0  my  God, — deliver  from  going  down  to  the  pit, 
I  have  found  a  ransom— have  patience  with  them,  and  I 
will  pay  thee  all ! 

He  paid  it.  Making  atonement  for  sin,  "  he  was 
wounded  for  our  transgressions ;  he  was  bruised  for 
our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 
him;  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  The  debt 
was  paid  on  Calvary  to  the  uttermost  farthing ;  and 
now  God  only  awakens  our  convictions  and  alarms  our 
consciences,  reckoning  with  us,  that  he  may  bring 
sinners  to  acknowledge  their  guilt,  and  so  prepare 
them  to  receive  his  mercy.  Sins  are  not  pardoned  till 
they  are  acknowledged.  If  Justice  wears  a  stern 
aspect ;  if  we  think  it  hard  that  she  will  not  pass  by 
the  smallest  sin,  that  she  holds  him  who  offends  in  one 
point  to  be  guilty  of  all,  that,  like  a  rough  and  stern 
officer,  she  takes  us  by  the  throat,  saying,  Pay  what 
thou  owest,  there  is  Pivine  love  here — "  a  bright  light 


250  1'Iifi 

in  the  clouds."  In  dealing  with  us  thus  God  seeks  to 
bring  us  to  a  sense  of  our  gins,  that  we  may  flee  to 
the  Saviour  ;  breaks  down  that  he  may  bind  up;  wounds 
that  he  may  heal ;  kills  that  he  may  make  alive.  The 
upbraidings  of  conscience,  an  awful  sense  of  guilt, 
David's  horror  when  he  cried,  "  The  terrors  of  death 
compassed  me  about,  and  the  pains  of  hell  gat  hold 
upon  me,"  are  the  harbingers  of  forgiveness.  It  is  as 
in  nature,  where  lightnings  flashing  through  the  horrid 
gloom  and  thunders  which  rend  the  skies,  are  preludes 
of  the  rain  that  descends  in  copious  showers  on  the 
parched  and  thirsty  ground.  Or  it  is  as  on  that  night 
of  old,  when  a  frail  and  lonely  bark,  watched  by  the 
Saviour's  eye,  was  battling  for  life  in  a  head  wind  on 
the  sea  of  Galilee — Jesus  comes  in  the  tempest  that 
agitates  the  soul.  Wrapt  in  the  dark  mantle  of  the 
night,  he  advances  over  the  stormy  billows ;  and,  ere 
long  filling  the  troubled  heart  with  a  holy  calm,  his 
voice  is  heard,  saying,  "It  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 

THE  SERVANT'S  TREATMENT  OF  HIS  FELLOW- 
SERVANT. 

Of  the  four  men  lately  hanged  at  Kirkdale,  two  had 
seen  a  man  executed  for  murder  but  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore they  committed  the  very  same  crime.  Without 
sufficiently  considering  that  ardent  spirits, — maddened 
by  which  both  imbrued  their  hands  in  blood, — while 
they  weaken  the  reason,  strengthen  the  passions,  and, 
acting  on  these  as  on  fire,  make  them  burn  with  a 
fiercer  heat,  people  are  shocked  at  such  an  instance  of 
human  depravity.  Such  a  case  certainly  and  awfully 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  251 

illustrates  God's  question:  "Why  should  ye  be  stricken 
any  more?  ye  will  revolt  more  and  more" — for,  unless 
checked  by  the  restraints  of  grace  or  of  providence, 
correction  but  exasperates  our  corruptions,  and,  pro- 
ducing no  other  effect  on  them  than  fire  on  clay, 
hardens  rather  than  softens  the  heart.  The  crime  of 
these  felons  who,  swung  from  the  gallows,  turn  slowly 
round  and  round  in  the  wind — a  ghastly  spectacle, 
was  shocking ;  yet  this  servant  presents  a  specimen  of 
humanity  in  some  respects  still  more  detestable.  Kind- 
ness seems  only  to  have  made  him  more  cruel,  and 
generous  treatment  more  selfish ;  nor  do  the  love  and 
mercy  of  his  ford  appear  to  have  produced  any  other 
effect  on  him  than  the  heat  of  the  tropics  on  poisonoue 
plants  and  venomous  reptiles, — imparting  to  juices  and 
fangs  a  deadlier  virus.  In  proof  of  this,  look  at  his 
treatment  of  his  fellow-servant ! 

It  is  extremely  harsh. — If  we  have  civil  rights  we 
should  use  them  civilly — refuse  even  a  beggar  with 
courtesy — be  kind  to  all — bear  ourselves  to  the 
meanest  without  forgetting  that  he  is  a  brother,  a 
fellow-creature,  one  who  though  less  favored  by  for- 
tune, may  carry  on  his  shoulders  a,  better  head,  and 
within  his  bosom  a  kinder  heart,  than  ours.  But  this 
ingrate  could  not  have  treated  the  poor  man  worse  had 
he  been,  not  his  fellow-servant,  but  his  slave ;  not  a 
debtor,  but  a  robber ;  not,  as  probably  he  was,  a  man 
whose  infirm  health,  or  numerous  family,  or  unexpected 
misfortune,  had  involved  him  in  debt,-  but  one  more 
extravagant  in  his  habits  and  faithless  to  his  trust  than 
hitnself.  All  of  a  sudden,  like  a  police-officer  who 


252  THE    PARABLES. 

lights  on  some  criminal  for  whom  he  has  been  hunting 
the  streets,  and  haunts  and  hiding-places  of  vice,  he 
catches  his  debtor  by  the  throat,  with  the  peremptory 
demand,  "  Pay  me  that  thou  owest." 

It  is  most  unmerciful. — Though  unable  to  pay  the 
debt,  his  fellow-servant  is  too  honest  to  deny  it ;  nor, 
under  feelings  of  irritation,  natural  to  one  treated  with 
such  insolence  and  severity,  does  he  tell  this  man  to 
keep  off  hands,  and  remember,  that  though  he  is  his 
creditor,  he  is  not  his  master, — but  a  servant  as  well 
as  he,  nor  a  man  so  good.  Without  even  attempting 
to  excuse  himself,  and  show  how  innocently  perhaps 
he  fell  into  debt,  the  poor  man  casts  himself  entirely 
on  his  compassion.  Though  the  other,  as  a  servant, 
was  his  equal,  he  stoops  to  prostrate  himself  before 
him  as  his  superior ;  and,  crouching  at  his  feet,  makes 
the  same  pitiful  appeal,  that  but  a  few  minutes  before 
his  creditor  himself  had  made,  crying,  "  Have  patience 
with  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all !" 

Regarding  the  generous  and  entire  forgiveness  of 
the  king  which  is  set  forth  in  the  first  act  of  this  par- 
able, as  illustrating  the  manner  in  which  God  deals 
with  men,  in  the  answer  of  this  servant  to  his  fellow 
what  an  illustration  have  we  of  David's  wisdom  when, 
required  to  choose  between  the  pestilence  in  God's 
hand  and  the  sword  in  man's,  he  said:  "  Let  us  fall 
now  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  for  his  mercies  are 
great,  and  not  into  the  hands  of  man."  There  is  heat 
locked  up  in  polar  ice,  and  sparks  of  fire  may  be  struck 
from  ihe  coldest,  hardest  flint — but  there's  no  pity  in 
this  man's  bosom.  So  bad  is  human  nature  capable  of 


THE    UMMEKCIFUL    SERVANT.  253 

becoming ;  no  heart  more  merciless  to  man  than  man's  ! 
There  was  no  pity  to  be  expected  here — do  men 
grther  grapes  of  thorns  ?  This  haughty  and  heartless 
upstart  could  not  have  incurred  such  an  enormous  dsbt 
without  having  passed  many  years  in  the  .indulgence  of 
vice ;  and  all  debauchees  are  selfish — a  life  of  vice  re- 
sembling those  petrifying  wells  which  turn  into  stone 
whatever  is  immersed  in  them,  fairest  flowers  or  finest 
fruit.  The  ravages  of  the  worst  diseases  which  vice 
engenders  in  the  body  present  a  loathsome,  but  yet  a 
feeble  image  of  the  wreck  it  works  on  the  noblest 
features  of  the  soul.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  this 
man's  heart  was  not  touched  by  the  pitiful  appeal — 
that  the  only  reply  to  it  was,  a  prison.  "  He  would 
not,"  says  the  story,  "  but  went  and  cast  him  into 
prison,  till  he  should  pay  the  debt." 

The  circumstances  of  the  unmerciful  servant  greatly 
aggravated  his  guilt. — Good  men  remember  kindnesses, 
and  forget  injuries.  Doing  the  reverse,  bad  men  re- 
member injuries,  and  forget  kindnesses — in  their 
hearts,  the  first  are  graven  on  a  rock,  and  the  second 
written  in  sand.  But  this  merciless  servant  had  not 
even  time  to  forget  the  mercy  which  he  himself  had 
received ;  hardly  recovered  from  his  terror,  his  heart 
was  still  beating,  as,  when  the  storm  is  past,  the  waves 
continue  for  a  while  to  roll,  thundering  on  the  beach. 
He  had  just  left  the  house  ;  he  found  his  fellow-servant 
at  the  door ;  so  that  when  he  seized  him  by  the  throat, 
demanding  payment  and  refusing  mercy,  the  whole 
scene  of  his  own  forgiveness  must  have  been  fresh  on 
his  mind — lying  there,  though  not  like  the  dews  that 
22 


254  THE    PARABLES. 

sparkle  on  every  leaf,  and  bless  the  flowers  they  bathe. 
Himself  loved,  he  should  have  loved;  pitied,  he  should 
have  pitied  ;  having  obtained  mercy,  he  should  have 
shown  it.  Nor  was  that  all.  In  ten  thousand  talents, 
he  had  been  forgiven  much ;  yet  in  a  hundred  pence 
he  refused  to  forgive  little.  What  was  the  debt  this 
servant  owed  him  to  the  enormous  debts  which  he  had 
owed  his  master  ?  As  nothing.  And  by  this  the  par- 
able teaches  us  that  the  debts  man  owes  to  us  are  as 
nothing  to  those  we  owe  to  God, — that  the  greatest 
sins  man  commits  against  man  are  as  nothing  to  those 
we  have  committed  against  God.  Those  are  motes, 
but  these  beams ;  those  have  their  type  in  the  gnat, 
these  in  the  camel ;  those  are  a  mole-hill,  these  a 
towering  mountain,  as  Ezra  says,  "  grown  up  unto  the 
heavens;"  those  are  one  hundred  pence,  but  these, 
represented  by  ten  thousand  talents,  are  what  it 
needed  the  blood  of  Jesus  to  pay,  and  the  mercy  of 
God  to  pardon. 

THE   RESULT. 

When  some  ruffian  man  beats  a  woman,  or  a  grown 
lad  a  weeping  child,  without  waiting  to  inquire  into 
the  merits  of  the  quarrel  we  cry,  shame !  and  even  the 
lowest  mob  wins  our  esteem,  and  lights  up  its  rag? 
with  some  touch  of  glory  by  its  promptitude  in  espous- 
ing the  side  of  the  weak  against  the  strong ;  and  thus 
in  feelings  of  indignation  at  ingratitude,  oppression, 
inhumanity,  cruelty,  our  nature,  when  fallen  into  the 
greatest  ruin,  still  shows  some  vestiges  of  the  image  of 
GrOil.  Under  the  influence  of  such  a  noble  anger  the 


THE    UNMERCIFUL    SERVANT.  255 

other  servants,  when  they  saw  this  poor  man  seized  by 
the  throat  and  dragged  away  to  prison,  went  straight 
to  their  master  and  told  him  of  the  outrage.  They 
could  not  right  the  wrong,  he  could ;  nor  were  they 
mistaken  in  believing  that  he  would.  He  summons 
the  culprit  to  his  presence.  His  brow  grows  dark, — 
the  court  is  awed  into  silence — as  in  nature  before  a 
burst  of  thunder,  the  gloom  grows  deeper  and  deeper ; 
and  so  soon  as  the  culprit  appears,  his  Lord's  pent-up 
indignation  launches  itself  forth  on  his  head,  like  a 
thunderbolt,  in  these  words,  "  0  thou  wicked  servant, 
I  forgave  thee  all  that  debt  because  thou  desiredst  me  ; 
shouldst  thou  not  also  have  had  compassion  on  thy 
fellow-servant  even  as  I  had  pity  on  thee  ?"  The  par- 
don is  instantly  cancelled.  He  is  handed  over  to  punish- 
ment; and,  opening  to  receive  one  who  parts  with 
hope  at  its  door,  the  prison  closes  on  him  for  ever — in 
other  words  till,  accomplishing  an  impossibility,  he 
pays  the  uttermost  farthing.  And  there  we  leave  him, 
the  captive  of  a  prison — the  symbol  of  that  place 
"where  their  worm  shall  not  die,  and  neither  shall 
their  fire  be  quenched." 

It  has  been  said  that  no  figure  walks  on  all  its  four 
feet — in  other  words,  applies  in  all  respects  to  that 
which  it  is  employed  to  illustrate.  Christ,  for  instance, 
is  a  Rock ;  but  a  rock  is  dead,  while  he  liveth  for 
evermore — is  a  lamb  ;  but  a  lamb  is  without  reason, 
while  he  with  a  true  body  has  a  reasonable  soul — is  a 
lion;  but  a  lion  is  savage  and  blood-thirsty,  while  he, 
the  express  image  of  God's  person,  is  "  very  pitiful 
and  of  tender  mercy."  Now  this  remark  applies  es- 


256  TIIK     PAKABLES. 

pecially  to  our  Lord's  parables,  from  which,  were  we 
to  forget  that  many  things  in  the  story  form  but  ita 
surroundings  and  drapery,  we  would  draw  notions  the 
most  absurd  and  doctrines  the  most  unsound.  That 
the  king  here  might  illustrate  the  lesson,  With  what 
measure  ye  mete  it  shall  be  measured  unto  you  again, 
it  was  necessary  to  cancel  the  pardon — crushing  this 
merciless  wretch  under  the  load  of  his  original  debt. 
But  to  infer  from  that  part  of  the  story  that  such  as 
God  has  pardoned  may  notwithstanding  be  lost,  were 
contrary  to  his  Word  and  utterly  destructive  of  the 
believer's  peace. 

There  is  enough  here  as  elsewhere  to  warn  us  that 
unless,  living  a  life  of  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  branch 
abide  in  the  vine,  it  cannot  bring  forth  fruit,  and  shall 
be  cast  into  the  fire;  that  the  perseverance  of  the 
saints  is  inconsistent  with  their  perseverance  in  sin — 
being  in  fact  perseverance,  not  in  course  of  sin,  but  in 
a  state  of  grace.  But,  type  of  the  sinner  who  leaves 
God,  this  man,  as  the  story  runs,  "went  out."  Temp- 
tation met  him  at  the  door,  and  he  fell,  and  by  his  fall 
teaches  us  that  our  safety  lies  in  living  near  to  God, 
on  his  bosom — nestled  like  an  infant  in  the  embraces 
of  a  mother's  arms.  Nor,  though  people  may  fancy 
they  are  pardoned  who  are  not,  is  the  safety  of  Christ's 
pardoned  ones  less  secure.  By  convictions  which  are 
mistaken  for  conversions,  and  a  reformation  of  the  con- 
uuct  which  seems  a  renewing  of  the  heart,  Satan  may 
beguile  men,  saying,  Peace,  when  there  is  none  to  be 
found ;  yet  our  Lord's  words  shall  stand  true,  "  Peace 
I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you ;  not  as 


TIIE    UNMERCIFUL    SERVANT.  267 

the  world  giveth  give  I  unto  you :  let  not  your  hearta 
be  troubled,  neither  be  ye  afraid."  Did  he  ascend  to 
heaven  to  prepare  mansions  for  those  who  might  never 
occupy  them  ?  If  pardons  once  past  are  acts  which 
may  be  repealed,  how  could  he  say  of  his  people, 
"  They  shall  never  perish,  neither  shall  any  pluck 
them  out  of  my  hand :  my  Father  which  gave  them 
me  is  greater  than  all,  and  no  man  is  able  to  pluck 
them  out  of  my  Father's  hands  ?"  How  can  angels  re- 
joice when  a  sinner  is  converted,  if  his  salvation  still 
hangs  in  dread  suspense,  and  neither  man  nor  angel 
can  tell  but  that  the  bark  which,  with  head  turned  to 
the  harbor,  comes  bravely  through  the  roaring  sea, 
may,  notwithstanding,  strike  on  the  treacherous  bar, 
and  be  scattered  in  broken  fragments  on  the  beach  ? 
Thank  God,  the  covenant  is  well  ordered  in  all  things 
and  sure — "  the  gifts  and  calling  of  God  are  without 
repentance." 

THE   LESSON. 

"  Forgive  us  our  debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors," 
is  a  clause  in  the  Lord's  prayer,  which  has  in  words  its 
best  comment  in  this  parable,  as  it  had  a  very  striking 
one  in  fact  in  an  event  which  I  happened  to  witness, 
— and  where  the  sentence  "  so  likewise  shall  my 
heavenly  Father  do  also  unto  you  if  ye  from  your 
hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother,  their  tres- 
passes," was,  so  far  as  the  judgment  of  the  unseen 
world  is  ever  anticipated  in  this,  fearfully  fulfilled. 
Between  a  mother  and  her  daughter  there  had  sprung 
up  a  serious  quarrel.  One  house  could  not  hold  them. 
22* 


258  THE    PARABLES. 

At  length  filial  affection  triumphed  over  pride ;  and 
swelling  like  a  dammed  up  stream  till  it  burst  its 
barriers,  nature  resumed  her  course  in  the  daughter's 
heart.  She  sought  reconciliation.  She  repaired  to 
her  early  home.  No  welcome  met  her  at  the  door. 
She  humbled  herself  to  her  mother,  on  bended  knees 
imploring  her  forgiveness.  She  appealed  to  the  bosom 
that  had  nursed  her ;  but  might  as  well  have  knocked 
on  a  coffin — there  was  no  response.  Nor,  though  im- 
ploring 'her  by  the  mercies  of  God  and  entreating  her 
to  forgive  as  she  desired  to  be  forgiven,  could  I,  called 
in  as  a  peacemaker,  bend  that  stubborn,  iron  will.  By- 
and-by,  to  this  lonely  home  came  another  visitor. 
Death,  who  would  not  be  denied  admittance,  arrived — 
summoning  her  to  a  bar  where  they  shall  have  judg- 
ment without  mercy  who  have  shown  no  mercy.  Called 
to  her  dying  bed  on  a  night  dark,  and  starless,  and 
stormy,  I  found  the  scene  within  darker  than  that 
without.  On  the  floor  of  the  dim  and  dreary  chamber 
stood  a  group  of  pale,  trembling,  terror-stricken  atten- 
dants. Death  had  his  victim  by  the  throat ;  and,  with 
the  coldest,  cruellest  hand  of  the  two,  despair  had  her 
by  the  heart.  The  Bible  was  there,  the  offers  of  mercy 
there,  but  no  hope — there  was  no  delirium,  but  the 
deepest  darkness — and,  after  setting  her  sins  and  the 
Saviour  before  her,  holding  up  the  cross  and  Christ 
crucified  to  her  dying  eye,  I  shall  never  forget,  on 
bending  down  to  ask  if  she  had  any  hope,  the  shadow 
of  a  hope,  the  expression  of  that  face.  The  candle, 
set  in  a  corner  of  the  bed,  shone  full  on  her  pallid, 
sunken,  bloodless  countenance,  and  her  answer  was  to 


TFIE    UNMERCIFUL    SERVANT.  259 

throw  on  me  such  a  look  as  painters  give  to  the  faces 
of  the  damned — gnashing  her  teeth  the  while.  I  would 
not,  in  any  case,  claim  the  prerogative  of  the  judge, 
nor  attempt  to  raise  the  curtain  which  conceals  the 
future,  yet  no  wonder,  as  I  left  the  scene  with  shaken 
nerves,  that  voices  amid  the  shrieks  and  howlings  of 
the  tempest  seemed  to  sound  out  these  awful  words, 
"  There  shall  be  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing 
of  teeth." 

Teaching  us  not  to  make  quarrels,  but  make  them 
up,  to  be  as  ready  to  forgive  others  as  God  is  to  for- 
give us,  and  like  him,  though  the  offended,  to  make 
overtures  of  peace  to  the  offender,  this  parable  admits 
of  a  wider  application.  In  attempting  to  heal  the 
wounds  and  redress  the  wrongs  of  humanity,  let  us 
learn,  from  the  servants  who  went  and  told  their  king, 
to  tell  God  of  the  evils  we  cannot  cure ;  and  let  those 
also  who,  given  up  to  selfishness,  are  not  touched  by 
the  miseries  of  others,  learn  that  in  other  things  as 
well  as  in  matters  of  forgiveness,  as  they  mete,  it  shall 
be  meted  to  them.  It  sounds  out  this  warning,  Be 
pitiless  and  go  unpitied — neglect  man's  wrongs,  and 
have  your  own  neglected — close  your  heart  to  the  ap- 
peals of  misery,  and  find  God's  heart  closed  against 
you — shut  your  door  in  the  face  of  the  wretched,  and 
have  heaven's  shut  sternly  in  your  own — live  in  your 
selfishness,  and  die  in  your  sins — be  deaf  to  the  wails 
of  earth,  and  wail  in  hell — be  a  curse  to  man,  and  be 
aceursed  of  God !  Whether  it  be  bane  or  blessing 
which  we  diffuse  around  us,  let  us  rest  assured  that 
there  is  a  mysterious  tide  circling  in  the  government  of 


260  THE    PARABLES. 

God  that  shall,  here  or  hereafter,  bring  hack  to  us  the 
bread  which  we  have  cast  upon  the  waters.  It  shall 
return.  As  men  sow,  they  shall  reap.  By  an  in- 
fallible decree,  they  shall  have  judgment  without  mercy 
who  have  shown  no  mercy ;  while  those  who,  Christ- 
like,  go  about  doing  good,  forgiving  such  as  wrong 
them,  helping  such  as  need,  pitying  such  as  suffer, 
seeking  to  save  others  from  sin  as  well  as  succor  them 
in  sorrow,  shall,  Christ-like  also,  on  leaving  the  world, 
go  to  the  Father.  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  says  our 
Lord,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy.  Renewed  in  his 
image  and  born  again  of  his  Spirit,  they  are  children 
of  God-  -  «nd  so  the  poet  sings : 

•  But  deep  this  truth  impress'd  my  mini, 

Of  all  his  works  abroad, 
Tliue  heart  benevolent  and  kind, 
That  most  resemble*  God." 


xn. 

erf  %  f  atoms  in  %  fltwprfr. 


Matthew  xxi.  1  —  16. 

IN  this  passage  of  Scripture  commentators  have 
found  a  grand  battle-field  —  all  manner  of  opinions 
having  been  entertained,  and  maintained,  about  its 
proper  meaning.  It  forms  a  part  of  Christ's  answer 
to  Peter's  question,  "  Behold,  we  have  forsaken  all, 
and  followed  thee;  what  shall  we  have  therefore?" 
That  is  plain  :  but  who  the  laborers  are,  what  is  meant 
by  the  hours,  what  is  the  true  value  of  the  penny, 
now  the  story  affords  either  a  satisfactory  reply  to  the 
question  that  originated  it,  or  a  sufficient  foundation 
to  the  moral  that  Christ  builds  on  it,  are  points  on 
which  divines  have  widely  differed.  The  key  is  yet  to 
be  found  —  if  it  ever  will  be  found  —  which,  fitting  all 
its  wards,  will  fully  unlock  this  parable.  Hitherto  it 
has  baffled  the  efforts  of  the  ablest  critics  ;  and  in  the 
obscurity  under  which,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  it 
remains,  after  all  that  they  have  done  to  elucidate  its 
meaning,  it  stands  here  recalling  the  words  of  David, 
"  I  will  incline  mine  ear  to  a  parable,  I  will  open  my 
dark  saying  upon  the  harp."  Rather  than  attempt  to 

(261) 


262      ,  THE    PARABLES. 

settle  controversies  which  seem  insoluble,  we  shall 
take  a  practical  view  of  th':s  parable, — turning  our 
eyes  on  some  great  truths  which  are  plainly  discer- 
nible through  what  is  dusky  and  ambiguous ;  and 
which  are  calculated,  with  God's  blessing,  to  reward 
our  attention  and,  if  not  to  entertain  our  fancy,  to 
profit  our  souls.  For  notwithstanding  the  doubts,  and 
difficulties,  and  differences  of  commentators,  this  par- 
able resembles  a  mountain  which,  though  partially 
concealed  by  the  mists  that  are  wrapped  around  its 
bosom  and  fall  in  gray  folds  on  its  ample  limbs, 
presents  in  noble  forests,  and  stupendous  crags  and 
peaks  which,  crowned  with  snow  and  bathed  in  sun- 
shine, pierce  the  skies,  many  grand  views.  In  opening 
these  up  let  us  first  look  at  the  parable  as  it  relates  the 
proceedings  of  the  householder. 

His  is  a  story  of  Eastern  life. — He  had  a  vineyard 
— as  indeed  have  all  men  of  any  position  or  substance 
in  those  lands,  where  vines,  planted  in  the  fields,  or 
clothing  the  naked  rocks,  or  drooping  in  beautiful 
festoons  from  tree  to  tree,  are  cultivated,  and  the 
grape  forms  an  important  article  of  food,  its  juice  tak- 
ing the  place  which  milk  has  in  the  diet  of  our  farm- 
laborers,  and  the  fruit  of  the  vine  dried  in  the  sun  and 
prepared  in  various  ways  besides,  forming  a  means  of 
subsistence  the  whole  year  through ;  facts  these  from 
which  to  learn  the  true,  full  meaning  of  such  expres- 
sions as  "  a  land  of  corn  and  wine,"  "  corn  shall  make 
the  young  men  cheerful,  and  new  wine  the  maids." 
The  time  of  this  parable  is  that  season  of  the  year 


THE    LABORERS    IN   THE    VINEYARD.  268 

when,  like  farms  at  harvest  or  at  hay-making,  the 
vineyard  required  more  than  the  work  of  its  regular 
hands.  The  householder  must  hire  others ;  and  for 
that  purpose  he  rises  with  the  dawn,  and  repairs  to 
the  marketplace  of  the  town  or  village  where  he  re- 
sided, and  where  sun-burned  hardy  men  of  bone  and 
muscle  on  the  outlook  for  employment,  were  in  the 
habit  of  assembling.  Such  stalwart  groups  may  be 
seen  in  our  own  towns ;  and  in  the  East,  where  all 
things  are  stereotyped,  the  custom  of  this  house- 
holder's time  still  remains — a  recent  traveler  mention- 
ing that  on  passing  through  a  town  in  Palestine,  he 
saw  such  a  gathering  in  its  market-place  ;  and  on  ask- 
ing the  people  why  they  were  standing  idle  there,  got 
for  answer  these  very  words,  "  because  no  man  hath 
hired  us."  Hiring  such  as  he  found  there  at  early 
morn,  the  householder  sent  them  off  to  his  vineyard, 
agreeing  to  pay  them  a  penny  for  the  day's  work — a 
sum  which,  though  it  appears  small  to  us,  amounting 
in  our  money  only  to  sevenpence  or  eightpence,  was 
the  pay  of  a  Roman  soldier,  and  the  average  wage  of 
a  working  man.  About  nine  o'clock  of  the"  day,  here 
called  the  third  hour,  the  householder,  finding  himself 
still  slack  of  hands,  returns  to  the  market-place,  and 
hires  others ;  he  does  the  same  at  twelve,  and  the  same 
again  at  three  o'clock, — promising  the  laborers,  since 
they  could  have  no  claim  to  a  full  day's  wage,  to  pay 
them  whatsoever  was  right.  By  and  by  the  sun  sinks 
low,  the  day  shortens,  and  the  shadows  lengthen ;  an- 
other hour,  and  the  chance  of  an  engagement  n  gone 
from  any  who  are  standing  in  the  market-place  Yet 


264  THE    PARABLES. 

once  more,  late  though  it  be,  as  with  one  turned  to 
God  when  his  head  is  gray,  the  householder  returns ; 
and  undertaking  to  give  them  also  what  was  right,  he 
hires  others,  who  betake  themselves  to  work,  confiding 
in  his  justice — perhaps  also  in  his  generosity.  And 
now  the  sun  sets ;  the  laborers  drop  their  toil,  wipe 
their  brows,  and  at  the  summons  of  the  steward  come 
for  their  hire — the  law  of  Moses,  which  jealously  pro- 
tected the  poor  man's  rights  and  leaned  rather  to  the 
side  of  the  weak  than  the  strong,  requiring  that  the 
day  which  saw  work  done  should  see  it  paid.  The 
parable  states  that  the  householder  directed  those  to 
be  first  paid  who  were  last  hired :  and  so  indeed  the 
story  required  to  be  constructed — in  order  to  bring 
forth  the  bad  passions  of  those  who  had,  to  use  their 
own  words,  borne  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 
Because,  had  the  paying  followed  the  order  of  the 
hiring,  it  is  evident  that  they  would  have  been  off  to 
their  homes  with  their  wages ;  nor  have  had  their  envy 
roused  by  the  generosity  which  made  all  alike,  and, 
unarrested  in  its  flow  by  their  demerits,  bestowed  the 
same  wages  on  such  as  had  wrought  one  hour  as  on 
those  who,  toiling  from  morn  to  night,  had  wrought  all 
the  twelve.  These  on  seeing  the  last  hired  receive  in 
a  penny  the  price  of  a  full  day's  work,  fancied  that 
they  would  receive  more.  But  here,  as  in  other  cases, 
greed  cheated  herself.  They  found  themselves  mis- 
taken :  but,  instead  of  swallowing  their  disappointment 
to  laud  the  householder,  and  congratulate  their  fellow? 
oh  his  generosity  to  them,  they  began  to  murtnui 
against  his  injustice  to  themselves.  One  bolder  than 


TniC   LABORERS    IN    THK    VINEYAHD.  2t>5 

the  rest,  undertaking  to  be  their  mouthpiece,  steps  out, 
and,  showing  the  penny  in  his  open  ralui,  remon- 
strates with  the  householder,  saying,  "  Thf-se  last  have 
wrought  but  one  hour,  and  thou  hast  nwle  them  equal 
to  us,  which  have  borne  the  heat  and  burden  of  the 
day."  They  make  no  appeal  to  the  bountifulness 
which  had  lavished  its  gifts  on  the  others,  but,  assum- 
ing the  air  of  injured  men,  rest  their  complaint  on 
grounds  of  justice.  The  householder  accepts  battle  on 
the  ground  of  their  own  choosing :  and  how  signal 
their  defeat !  If  they  had  fulfilled  the  conditions  of 
the  bargain,  so  had  he.  They  had  agreed  to  accept  a 
penny  for  the  day's  work,  arid  he  had  paid  it.  Friend, 
or  fellow,  he  says,  I  do  thee  no  wrong.  •  If  I  choose  to 
be  generous  to  others,  what  is  that  to  thee  ?  It  should 
excite  thy  admiration,  why  does  it  kindle  thy  envy? 
Injustice  !  Is  it  not  lawful  for  me  to  do  what  I  will  with 
my  own  ?  Begone — away  with  you  and  your  wages  ! 

Such  is  the  story  which  our  Lord  told ;  and  now,  to 
regard  it  in  some  of  its  plain  and  practical  aspects,  I 
remark  that  we  find  here 

The  rejection  of  the  Jews,  and  admission  of  the 
Gentiles. — Fancy,  which  sometimes  roams  as  wide  and 
wild  over  the  field  of  parables  as  over  that  of  pro- 
phecy, may  think  she  discovers  in  the  different  hours 
at  which  the  laborers  were  called,  distinctly  different 
periods  in  the  history  of  the  Church — its  leading 
epochs.  So  in  the  band  which,  brushing  the  dew  from 
the  grass,  enters  the  vineyard  in  the  morning,  she  may 
see  the  world's  gray  fathers,  the  good  men  before  the 
flood — in  such  as  were  hired  at  the  third  hour,  the 
23 


200  THE    PARABLES 

patriarchs  who,  kindling  their  torch  at  Noali's  altar, 
preserved  religi6n  alive  till  the  call  of  Abraham — in 
their  successors,  who  enter  on  work  when  the  sun  is  at 
his  height,  the  nation  that  left  Egypt  to  conquer  and 
cast  out  the  inhabitants,  and  occupy  the  land,  of  Ca- 
naan— in  those  summoned  at  the  ninth  hour,  or  three 
o'clock  of  our  day,  the  same  people,  reanimated  by  a 
revival  under  Elijah,  or  returning  under  Ezra  from 
captivity  to  the  worship,  and  land  of  their  fathers. 
Perhaps  our  Lord,  sketching  the  past  with  rapid  hand,' 
had  these  events  before  him  :  but  it  is  to  those  of  which 
Time,  long  pregnant,  was  on.  the  eve  of  giving  birth, 
that  this  parable  mainly  refers.  For  many  centuries, 
and  all  alone, "the  Jews  have  been  laboring  in  the 
Lord's  vineyard;  while  the  Gentiles,  wholly  given  up 
to  every  species  of  idolatry,  have  been  standing  un- 
hired,  and  idle, — living  without  God  or  hope  in  the 
world.  The  hour  of  their  call  being  at  hand,  they 
were  about  to  be  admitted  to  equal  privileges  with  the 
Jews :  and  within  the  pale  of  a  Church  which,  made 
for  mankind,  was  to  recognize  no  external  distinctions, 
knowing  men  neither  as  Jew  nor  Greek,  barbarian, 
Scythian,  bond  or  jree ;  they  were  to  be  placed  on  a 
level  with  those  who,  accounting  themselves  the  meri- 
torious as  well  as  special  favorites  of  Heaven,  had 
looked  down  with  contempt  on  all  other  humanity — 
their  boastful  cry,  "  The  temple  of  the  Lord,  the 
temple  of  the  Lord,  are  we."  This  delightful,  glorious 
prospect  was  peculiarly  obnoxious  to  the  Jews — had  no 
beauty  in  their  jaundiced  eyes.  Proud  and  haughty, 
animated  by  passions  unbecoming  fallen  man,  and  most 


THE    LABOHKKtt    IX    TUK   VINEYARD.  267 

offensive  to  a  gracious  and  holy  God,  they  rejected  both 
the  Scheme  and  the  divine  Schemer ;  and,  crucifying 
the  Lord  of  Glory,  were  themselves  rejected.  Filled 
with  pride,  scorn,  envy,  self-righteousness,  their  eyes 
open  to  other's  faults  but  blind  to  their  own,  they 
placed  themselves  in  the  same  relation  to  God  as  these 
laborers  to  the  householder  whose  justice  they  could 
not  justly  challenge,  but  whose  generosity  to  such  as, 
t}rpes  of  the  Gentile  nations,  were  called  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  they  wickedly  and  insolently  grudged. 
So,  as  Christ  here  and  elsewhere  teaches,  the  Jews 
forfeited  the  favor  of  God,  and  with  a  "  Go  thy  way," 
were  dismissed  from  the  glorious  honors  and  gracious 
rewards  of  his  service.  Thus,  warning  us  against 
building  our  hopes  on  any  outward  religious  advan- 
tages, "  the  first  were  last" — as  in  the  adoption  of  the 
Gentiles,  "  the  last  were  first." 

A  warning  against  selfishness  and  self-righteousness. 
— In  the  Shorter  Catechism  of  the  Westminster  As- 
sembly, the  answers,  as  a  series  of  distinct  theological 
propositions,  stand  independent  of  the  questions  to 
which  they  are  attached ;  but  it  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  fully  understand  an  answer,  first  to 
read  the  question — as  in  some  plants,  we  find  their  true 
substance  lodged  in  the  roots  from  which  they  spring  ; 
and  here  Peter's  question  helps  to  decipher  the  parable 
which  forms  a  part  of  Jesus'  answer.  A  short  while 
before  our  Lord  spake  these  words,  there  had  occurred 
one  of  the  saddest  and  most  touching  scenes  in  his  his- 
tory. A  young  man,  liberally  endowed  with  wealth, 
and,  better  still,  with  admirable  moral  qualities,  had, 


268  THE     PARABLES. 

elbowing  his  way  through  the  crowd,  come  to  Jesus ; 
and,  with  gaze  fixed  on  heaven  and  wings  outspread 
for  flight,  sought  his  counsel — saying,  Good  master, 
what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life  ?  Go,  was  the 
answer,  sell  all  that  thou  hast  and  give  to  the  poor, 
and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven ;  and  come, 
follow  me  !  He  was  not  prepared  for  this — for  such  a 
complete  surrender  of  all  which  men  hold  dear.  He 
longed,  and  looked,  and  wistfully  looked  again  ;  but 
the  price  was  too  high.  He  was  unfortunate  enough, 
as  others  have  been,  to  be  very  wealthy ;  and  so, 
though  Jesus  loved  him  and  followed  his  departing 
steps  with  kindly  interest,  he  returned  to  the  embraces 
of  the  world — strange  yet  true  conjunction — "  sorrow- 
ful, for  he  had  great  possessions."  What  an  event  for 
a  sermon  ! — the  subject  Mammon,  and  he  the  text. 
Seizing  the  occasion,  and  taking  his  eyes  from  this 
youth,  as  with  drooping  head  and  slow,  reluctant  steps, 
he  disappears  in  the  distance,  Jesus  turns  a  solemn, 
sad  look  on  his  disciples  to  say,  "  Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  that  a  rich  man  shall  hardly  enter  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  And  again  I  say  unto  you,  It  is  easier  for 
a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a 
rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  God." 

This  is  a  wreck — made,  I  may  say,  at  the  very 
mouth  of  the  harbor ;  and  not  difficult  to  be  accounted 
for.  It  can  be  traced  entirely  to  this,  that  he  acted  in 
the  matter  from  a  regard  to  self,  and  not  to  God ;  and 
also  that  he  sought  eternal  life  on  the  score  of  his  own 
merits,  and  not  on  grounds  of  mercy.  Yet  hardly  has 
Simon  Peter  seen  the  catastrophe,  ard  heard  the 


THE    LABORERS    IN   THE   VINEYAJRD.  269 

warning,  than,  apparently  blind  to  the  one  and  deaf 
to  the  other,  he  comes  to  his  Master  with  a  question, 
in  which  we  detect  distinct  traces  of  a  selfish  and  self- 
righteous  spirit.  He  and  his  companions  had  not  left 
great  possessions  to  follow  Jesus — their  "all"  being 
the  gains  of  men  who,  as  fishers,  earned  a  precarious 
livelihood  from  the  treacherous  sea ;  yet  he  contrasts 
himself  and  them  with  this  youth ;  and  patting  in  a 
claim  of  merit,  under  cover  of  devotion  to  Christ,  says, 
"  Behold,  we  have  forsaken  all  and  followed  thee ;" 
asking,  as  if  it  were  not  enough  to  have  Him  for  their 
reward,  "  What  shall  we  have  therefore  ?"  It  needs  no 
chemist's  fine  tests  and  delicate  analysis  to  detect  base 
arid  bad  elements  in  this  speech.  What  shall  we  have  ? 
— the  question  which  seems  most  to  interest  him  is  not 
Christ's  honor,  but  his  own  profit — what  shall  we  have 
therefore  in  compensation  for  our  sacrifices ;  in  the 
shape  of  wages  which  we  deserve,  and  you  owe  to  us  ? 
"Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,"  were  words  with  which, 
like  a  blow  in  his  face,  our  Lord  once  on  a  time  as- 
tonished Peter ;  and  it  is  not  less  a  rebuke  of  his  spirit, 
and  a  warning  both  to  him  and  the  others,  that  Jesus 
relates  a  story  where  those  who  stand  on  the  value  of 
their  works  forfeit  the  master's  favor  and  are  dismissed 
from  his  service;  and  where  such  as  work  but  one  hour 
receive  as  great  a  reward  as  those  who  toil  all  day. 
Thus  he  teaches  that  salvation  is  not  of  Avorks,  but  of 
grace — warning  Peter  not  what  he  should,  but  what, 
save  for  divine  grace,  he  might  become  by  indulging 
the  envious,  unkind,  uncharitable,  selfish,  and  self- 
righteous  spirit  of  these  laborers ;  how  he  would,  like 
23* 


270  THE    PAKAELES. 

the  youth  of  "  great  possessions,"  illustrate  the  saving, 
"Many  are  called  but  few  are  chosen;"  or,  like  the 
laborers  in  the  vineyard,  the  other  saying,  "  The  first 
shall  be  last,  and  the  last  shall  be  first."  Looking,  not 
at  its  accessories,  but  main  object,  this  parable  could 
find  no  better  motto  than  the  words  of  an  inspired 
apostle — so  dashing  to  human  pride,  but  so  cheering 
to  the  humble  and  broken-hearted,  "  Not  by  works  of 
righteousness  that  we  have  done,  but  according  to  his 
mercy  he  saved  us." 

Salvation  is  not  of  works,  but  of  grace. — Papists  and 
others  have  drawn  the  very  opposite  doctrine  from  this 
parable.  Misunderstanding  or  misrepresenting  its 
scope,  they  have  appealed  to  it  as  proving  that  we  are 
saved  by  works ;  and  that  though  Christ  is,  so  to  speak, 
the  key-stone,  our  good  works  form  the  body  and  main 
structure  of  the  arch.  In  evidence  of  this,  they  main- 
tain that  heaven  is  represented  here  under  the  form  of 
wages — a  reward  due  to  men  for  their  works  ;  and 
that,  of  course,  those  laborers  who  incurred  the  house- 
holder's displeasure,  as  well  as  those  who  were  .the  ob- 
jects of  his  favor  and  the  pensioners  of  his  gracious 
bounty,  represent  the  saved.  If  this  is  so,  we  have 
altogether  mistaken  the  nature  of  heaven  and  the 
spirit  of  its  glorified  inhabitants.  We  fancied  that  it 
was  the  abode  of  happiness,  disturbed  by  no  jealousies, 
embittered  by  no  bad  and  unhallowed  passions — where, 
though  saints,  like  the  stars,  might  differ  in  glory, 
none  envied  the  brighter  lustre  of  others'  crowns,  but 
all  with  one  accord,  ascribing  their  salvation  to  the 
mercy  of  the  Father  and  merits  of  the  Son,  magnified 


•CHE   LABORERS    IN   1C1E    VINEiAJtu^.  271 

the  grace,  none  impugning  the  justice,  of  God.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  an  explanation  of  this  parable 
which,  besides  contradicting  the  whole  tenor  of  Scrip- 
ture, involves  such  absurdities,  introducing  envy  and 
jealousy  and  discontent  into  heaven,  must  be  wrong. 
As  to  the  payment  of  the  penny  to  the  murmurers,  it 
is  a  necessary  part  of  the  story.  It  was  a  matter  of 
equity  on  the  part  of  the  householder ;  and  had  he 
failed  to  do  that,  these  grumblers  would  have  had  oc- 
casion to  impeach  his  justice — not  that  generosity 
which  is  the  true  point  of  the  parable,  the  feature  of 
salvation  it  is  set  forth  to  illustrate. 

What  this  parable,  where  the  Church  is  the  vineyard 
and  men  are  the  laborers,  intends  to  illustrate,  meets 
us  on  the  threshold — in  the  circumstance  that  the 
householder,  who  represents  God,  seeks  the  laborers  ; 
not  they  the  householder.  Early  morn  does  not  find 
them  crowding  his  door,  and  offering  to  work  in  his 
service :  nor  even  when  it  becomes  known  that  he  has 
already  hired  a  number,  do  those  who  stand  idle  in  the 
market  leave  it  to  repair  to  the  vineyard,  soliciting 
employment.  On  the  contrary,  again  and  again  and 
again,  he  comes  for  laborers— in  every  case  the  ap- 
proach and  first  movement  being  on  his  part ;  never  on 
theirs.  Even  so,  the  first  steps  toward  reconciliation 
between  man  and  God  are  always  taken  by  Him.  He 
designed  redemption  in  the  councils  of  eternity,  so  that, 
in  a  sense,  before  man  lived  he  was  loved,  was  re- 
deemed before  he  sinned,  and  raised  up  before  he  fell. 
Without  any  application  on  our  part,  of  his  own  free 
spontaneous  will,  God  sent  his  Son  to  redeem,  and 


'272  THE 'PARABLES. 

sends  his  Spirit  to  renew.  The  spark  of  grace  which 
we  have  to  nurse,  He  kindled  in  our  bosoms ;  it  was 
his  hand  on  the  helm  that  turned  us  round ;  and 
whether  we  were  at  first,  as  some  are,  driven  to  Christ 
by  terrors,  or,  as  others  are,  sweetly  drawn  to  Him  by 
the  attractions  of  his  love,  anyway  it  was  the  Lord's 
doing — Jesus,  all  praise  be  to  his  grace,  being  at  once 
the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  salvation,  the  author  as  well 
as  finisher  of  our  faith.  A  great  truth  this  ! — it  finds 
fit  and  glorious  expression  yonder,  where  the  saints, 
descending  from  their  heavenly  thrones,  cast  blood- 
bought  crowns  at  Jesus'  feet ;  and  one  well  put  by  the 
simple  Christian,  who,  on  being  taunted  with  believing 
the  doctrine  of  election,  replied,  "  I  know  that  God 
chose  me,  because,  unless  He  had  first  chosen  me,  I  am 
sure  I  never  would  have  chosen  Him." 

Till  we  enter  God's  service,  all  our  industry  is  idle- 
ness.— As  we  have  the  Church  in  the  vineyard,  we 
have  the  world  in  the  market-place  of  this  parable : 
and  how  striking  the  picture  !  There,  where  some  talk- 
ing with  their  neighbors  tell  the  news,  and  some  hav- 
ing nothing  else  to  do  engage  in  games,  and  some  are 
laughing,  and  some  are  yawning,  and  some  with  their 
backs  to  the  wall,  or  stretched  out  at  full  length  on  the 
ground  are  sleeping,  but  none  are  working,  is  the 
world — this  busy  world,  as  it  is  called,  where  people, 
believe  them,  in  their  daily  toil  for  bread,  or  keen 
pursuit  of  wealth,  or  pleasure,  or  fame,  have  not  one 
hour  to  spare  for  the  things  that  belong  to  salvation 
•and  their  everlasting  peace.  Ay,  how  would  many 
deem  us  mad,  and  fancy  that  religion  had  turned  our 


THE  LABORERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.        273 

brain,  were  we  to  walk  into  the  counting-room,  the 
crowded  shop,  the  silent  study,  the  public  assembly,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  festive  hall,  the  applauding  theatre, 
the  gay,  whirling  ball-room,  and  address  them  thus  : 
"  Why  stand  ye  here  idle  all  the  day  ?"  Mad  ?— "  I 
am  not  mad,  most  noble  Festus."  There  is  such  a 
thing  as  laborious  idleness.  Busy  ?  So  was  the 
shepherd  on  the  Alps,  mentioned  by  Dugald  Stewart, 
who  spent  fifteen  years  of  life  learning  to  balance  a 
pole  on  his  chin  :  and  the  philosopher  sagely  remarks 
how  much  good,  had  they  been  directed  to  a  noble  ob- 
ject, this  diligence  and  perseverance  would  have  ac- 
complished. Busy?  So  have  I  seen  the  miller's 
wheel,  which  went  round  and  round :  but  idly,  grind- 
ing no  corn.  Busy  ?  So,  in  a  way,  was  the  Russian 
who,  facing  the  winter's  cold  nor  regarding  the  cost  of 
massive  slabs  brought  at  great  labor  from  frozen  lake 
and  river,  built  him  an  icy  palace,  within  whose  glit- 
tering, translucent  walls,  wrapped  in  furs  and  shining 
in  jewels,  rank  and  beauty  held  their  revelry,  and  the 
bowl  and  the  laugh  and  the  song  went  round.  But 
with  soft  breath,  and  other  music,  and  opening  buds, 
Spring  returned ;  and  then  before  the  eyes  that  had 
gazed  with  wonder  on  the  crystal  walls  of  that  fairy 
palace  as  they  gleamed  by  night  with  a  thousand 
lights,  or  flashed  with  the  radiance  of  gems  in  the 
bright  sunshine,  it  dissolved,  nor  left  "a  rack  behind" 
— its  pleasures,  "vanity;"  its  expense,  "vexation  of 
spirit."  Busy?  So,  in  a  way,  are  the  children  who, 
when  the  tide  is  at  the  ebb,  with  merry  laughter  and 
rosy  cheeks  and  nimble  hands  build  a  castle  of  the 


274  THE   PARABLES. 

moist  seasand — the  thoughtless  urchins,  types  of  lovers 
of  pteasure  and  of  the  world,  so  intent  on  their  work 
as  not  to  see  how  the  treacherous,  silent  tide  has  crept 
around  them,  not  merely  to  sap  and  undermine,  and 
with  one  rude  blow  of  her  billow  demolish  the  work  of 
their  hands,  but  to  cut  off  their  retreat  to  the  distant 
shore,  and  drown  their  frantic  screams  and  cries  for 
help  in  the  roar  of  its  remorseless  waves.  From  a 
death-bed,  where  all  he  toiled  and  sinned  and  sorrowed 
for  is  slipping  from  his  grasp,  fading  from  his  view, 
such  will  his  life  seem  to  the  busiest  worldling ;  he 
spends  his  strength  for  nought,  and  his  labor  for  that 
which  profiteth  not.  With  an  eye  that  pities  because 
it  foresees  our  miserable  doom,  God  calls  us  from  such 
busy  trifling,  from  a  life  of  laborious  idleness,  to  a  ser- 
vice which  is  as  pleasant  as  it  is  profitable,  as  graceful 
as  it  is  dutiful,  saying — Work  out  your  salvation — 
Work  while  it  is  called  to-day,  seeing  that  the  night 
cometh  when  no  man  can  work. 

And  work  now.  Why,  some  may  ask,  now  ?  Their 
sun  is  not  yet  in  his  meridian ;  or,  if  the  shadow  has 
turned,  he  has  still  a  long  bright  path  to  travel  ere  he 
sinks  in  night — eleven  hours  for  play  and  one  hour  for 
work,  eleven  for  enjoyment  and  one  for  employment, 
is  their  reading  of  the  parable.  It  is  not  the  right 
reading.  God  forbid  that  I  should  limit  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel !  If  one  day  is  with  him  as  a  thousand 
years,  so  is  one  moment;  and  salvation  being  alto- 
gether of  mercy  and  not  at  all  of  merit,  one  last,  dim, 
dying,  believing  look  turned  on  the  cross  of  Christ, 
can  save  a  soul  on  the  very  brink  of — hell  passing 


THE    LABOREES    IN    THE    VINEYARD.  275 

over  into  the  yawning  pit ;  even  as  in  the  camp  of 
Tsrael  "  it  came  to  pass  that  if  a  serpent  had  bitten  any 
man,  when  he  beheld  the  serpent  of  brass,  he  lived." 
True  as  that  is,  still  the  case  of  the  laborers  who  did 
not  enter  the  vineyard  till  the  eleventh  hour,  nor  begin 
to  work  till  the  others  had  begun  to  think  of  rest  and 
the  coming  night,  affords  no  encouragement  to  procras- 
tination. Admit  that  these  hours,  as  some  think, 
stand  for  the  different  periods  of  human  life — child- 
hood, youth,  manhood,  and  old  age,  yet  let  it  be  ob- 
served that  the  laborers  who  entered  the  vineyard  at 
the  close  of  day  were  never  called  till  then.  They 
had  never  refused  a  call — they  had  no  offer  till  the 
eleventh  hour ;  and  instead  of  having  rejected  offers, 
they  accepted  the  very  first  they  got.  None  who  have 
read  the  Bible  from  childhood,  who  have  heard  it 
preached  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  who  have  been  urged 
a  thousand  times  by  the  voices  of  the  dead  and  of  the 
living  to  accept  of  mercy,  can  reply  with  these  la- 
borers, "No  man  hath  hired  us."  Their  case  there- 
fore affords  us  no  encouragement  to  put  off  what 
concerns  our  salvation,  I  say  not  a  year  or  a  day,  but 
even  a  single  hour.  Those  rose,  responded  instantly, 
to  the  call.  It  is  not  procrastination,  but  promptitude, 
therefore,  which  this  parable  teaches — promptitude 
like  his  who,  sinking,  drowning  in  the  swollen  river,  so 
soon  as  a  rope,  spinning  out  from  one  who  has  hurried 
to  the  bank,  conies  within  his  reach,  with  sudden  and 
convulsive  gripe  closes  his  hand  on  it ;  and,  holding 
on  like  death,  is  drawn  safe  to  shore.  Do  thou  like- 


276  THE 

wise.     Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time  ;  behold,  now 
is  the  day  of  salvation. 

Salvation,  though  not  of  works,  is  for  ivories. — 
"  Show  me  thy  faith  by  thy  works,"  is  the  demand  of 
St.  James;  "Be  careful  to  maintain  good  works,"  is 
the  counsel  of  St.  Paul ;  and  the  testimony  of  the 
whole  Bible  is,  that  faith  without  works  is  dead.  We 
are  not  called  into  the  vineyard  to  sit  idle,  to  fold  our 
hands  and  go  to  sleep.  They  that  sleep,  sleep  in  the 
night ;  but  believers  are  children  of  the  light  and  of 
the  day,  and  have  much  to  do.  In  amending  our 
habits,  in  cultivating  our  hearts,  in  resisting  tempta- 
tion, in  conquering  besetting  sins,  in  fighting  the  good 
fight,  to  keep  the  faith,  our  banner  flying,  and,  step 
by  step,  win  the  way  to  heaven,  how  much  have  we  to 
do  ? — so  much,  that  an  idle,  were  as  great  a  contradic- 
tion in  terms,  as  a  dishonest,  a  lying,  or  licentious 
Christian.  In  respect  even  of  our  own  interest  and 
spiritual  welfare,  may  we  not  use  the  words  of  JSTehe- 
ruiah,  and  say  to  the  world  when,  with  winning  smiles 
or  brow  of  care,  it  solicits  our  hearts  and  time,  "  I 
have  a  great  work  to  do,  therefore  I  cannot  come 
down  ?"  But  no  man  liveth  for  himself — no  Christian, 
at  least :  and  in  a  world  bleeding  from  so  many 
wounds,  so  brimful  of  sorrow,  and  suffering,  and  op- 
pression, and  ignorance,  and  wrong,  and  crimes,  where 
sinners  perish  around  us  as  in  a  great  shipwreck,  some 
dashed  on  the  cruel  rocks  and  others  drowning  in  the 
waves,  and  all  by  their  dangers  crying,  Help,  we 
perish ! — instead  of  having  nothing  to  do,  might  we 
not  wish  to  have  a  thousand  heads  to  plan,  and  a  thou- 


THB   LABOKEES   IN   THE   VINEYABD.  277 

sand  hearts  to  feel,  and  a  thousand  hands  to  work, 
the  zeal  of  Paul,  the  wealth  of  Solomon,  and  the  years 
of  Methuselah  ?  Let  us  pity  the  world;  and  endeavor, 
praying  and  working,  so  to  shine  that  others,  seeing 
our  good  works,  may  he  guided  to  heaven,  and  glorify 
our  Father  there — each  such  a  light,  or  rather  light- 
house, as  one  of  England's  hold  engineers  raised  on 
the  reef  which  owed  its  dreaded  name  to  the  waters 
that  eddied  and  boiled  around  it.  To  save  our  seamen 
from  a  watery  grave,  their  wives  from  widowhood, 
their  little  ones  from  the  miseries  and  crimes  of  neg- 
lected orphanage,  what  dangers  he  faced  ! — as  on  that 
night  when,  hurrying  on  deck,  he  saw  white  breakers 
all  around,  and  above  their  roar  and  the  shrieks  of  the 
tempest,  heard  the  helmsman  cry,  For  God's  sake, 
heave  hard  at  that  rope,  if  you  mean  to  save  your 
lives ! — and  the  vessel,  with  scrimp  room  to  turn, 
obeyed  her  helm  and  rounded  off.  Example  to  all  who 
seek  a  yet  higher  object — to  save  men's  souls  from  ig- 
norance, and  vice,  and  hell — what  anxieties  he  felt  to 
bring  his  enterprise  to  a  happy  issue !  On  the  Hoe 
headland,  where  Drake  first  saw  Spain's  proud  Ar- 
mada, alone  in  the  gray  of  morning,  after  a  tempes- 
tuous night,  he  might  be  seen  looking  out,  with  teles- 
cope at  his  eye,  over  a  raging  sea,  for  his  yet  unfinished 
structure ;  and  heard  saying,  as  a  tall  white  pillar  of 
spray  suddenly  gleaming  on  the  far  horizon  revealed 
his  work  and  removed  his  fears,  Thank  God,  it  stands  ! 
Would  that  Christian  men  and  women  were  as  anxious 
that  God  would  "  establish  the  work  of  their  hands  ;" 
and  make  each  of  them,  through  a  loving,  active, 
24 


278  THK    PARABLES. 

zealous,  pious  life,  a  light  shining  in  a  dark  place,  in  a 
dangerous  and  perishing  world ! — such  as  that  light- 
house to  the  homeward-bound,  whose  course  it  guides, 
and  whose  hearts  leap  with  joy  when,  as  it  rises  to  the 
eye  of  the  outlook  like  a  star  across  the  waters,  the 
cry  is    sung  out  from  the  mast-head,  and  echoed  in 
every  cabin,  The  Eddystone  is  in  sight !     Nor  do  we" 
fear  but  that  they  who  thus  work  for  God,  and  Christ, 
and  the  good  of  men,  will  imitate  Smeaton  in  giving 
the  glory  where  the  glory  is  due — inscribing  on  their 
lives  the  words  which,  as  the  last  work  of  the  mason's 
chisel,  he  had  cut  on  that  monument  of  his  genius  and 
humanity,  LA  US  DEO — praise  to  God  !     A  fitting 
motto  these  for  the  heavenly  crown ;  and  also  for  a 
life  on  earth  which,  founded  on  the  Rock  of   Ages, 
and  built  up  through  grace  amid  many  trials,  hard- 
ships, and  storms  of  temptation,  has  been  blessed  of 
God  to  guide  the  heavenward-bound  to  their  desired 
haven,  and,  by  shining  on  their  way  to  Jesus,  to  save 
those  that  were  ready  to  perish ! 


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